


ffucc

by victortor



Series: bah [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon character deaths, M/M, Spoilers, chapter word lengths have not been spaced evenly whoops, gonna be busy until like 2018 rip sorry yall, i tried hard tho, kind of a mess, noct and luna are the same person, not romance-oriented, pretty much every character in the game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victortor/pseuds/victortor
Summary: This is an exercise in futility.Or, the AU where Noct lives a double life, one as himself and the other as Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle of Tenebrae.(Chinese translations are foundhereandhere, by woodencat.)





	1. Four

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the work is a tribute to Luna, in which Final Fantasy Undermined Cool Characters (FFUCC). It should be pronounced as "fuck," in case it wasn't clear. It took a while to create such a catchy title, but i ultimately prevailed.

When Luna is four years old, she comes to the realization that she can see two things at once. That she has four arms, four ears, four eyes, four legs, and that she has a brother and is the next in line to be Oracle, but is also an only child and is next in line to be King of Lucis.

Well, that is a bit of a lie. She doesn’t find out the last part until a year later, when she’s stumbling around the Citadel in Insomnia with small, chubby legs and a servant calls her Prince Noctis and she finally makes the connection.

Something inside Luna tells her that she mustn't tell anyone.

So instead, she asks her mother, the Oracle, about Lucis, and she smiles tenderly and strokes Luna’s blond hair gently, and regales the tale of the Crystal, the Ring of Lucii, the Chosen King, and the Oracle.

“Mother?” Luna asks, feeling very small. “Is the Oracle… to help the King ascend and rid the world of darkness?”

Her mother smiles at her. “Yes, Lunafreya. That is my duty, and one day it will be yours. But you are only a child, and too young for such things. Why don’t you go run along with Ravus?”

Luna’s father, King Regis, smiles down at her and sets her on his lap, and speaks to her warmly, despite knowing that a child as small as Noctis cannot possibly understand all he is saying. (Luna does, though.)

“Noctis, you are my son.” He smiles sadly, newly formed wrinkles on his face crinkling. “I only wish to protect you from the dangers of the world, but I fear one day it will no longer be possible. You are the Chosen King, Noctis, and I cannot protect you forever. But still… I can wish. As for now though, it is my duty to care for this kingdom from the empire. Care for you.”

Luna stares up to him with wide eyes, wishing, wanting desperately to say “I love you” back to him, because she does, she really does, but Noctis’ mouth refuses to cooperate. Instead, the babble of a baby washes out, and her father merely smiles at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a thing. :/  
> Im pretty sure the concept is hard to grasp, but it's just luna and noct are the same person that's literally it
> 
> also many headcanons and stuff and gladio is in here whoops


	2. Six

When Luna is six years old, she overhears the maids talking to her mother, in hushed, anxious noises. She and Ravus, the mischievous children they are, put their ears to the door and attempt to listen in.

“I’m telling you, it’s not right—”

“It’s downright wrong, that’s what it is, Queen Sylva, there’s something wrong with the princess —”

“We all thought it was just a phase, that it would pass, but it’s been _so long_ , and there hasn’t been a change, and—”

“Calm down, everyone,” Her mother says with quiet authority. “Tell me, what is wrong with Lunafreya?”

“Well, Your Highness,” One of the maids says, flustered. “She just, well, sometimes she just… isn’t here, if you catch my meaning. Like she’s listening to something we can’t hear, and sometimes she laughs without any reason at all, or speaks to no one.”

Luna’s breath catches, and Ravus looks at her questioningly.

“I see,” Her mother’s voice floats through. “I had noticed that in her, but I had dismissed it. For now, keep a closer eye on my daughter, if you will. It might really be nothing to worry about, but I would like to monitor Lunafreya nonetheless.”

The maids are a chorus of murmurs, and they voice their agreement.

“What was that all about?” Ravus wonders aloud, and Luna grips the corners of her white dress and does not respond.

Noct is two at the time, and Luna tries to speak through him to the best of her ability, but sometimes she messes up and ends up speaking through her own mouth instead. She had not realized others had noticed.

She needs to be better, so she learns how to coordinate herself and Noct and how to move which leg she wants, eat with the right mouth, and speak in the right tone of voice. No one in the Crown City has a Tenebrae accent, so Luna learns how to speak as a Lucian as well. A child has the capacity to do anything if they put their mind to it, and Luna is determined to make sure that her mother is not worried about her. Within a few months, the worried frowns on the maid’s faces fade, and her mother no longer looks at her with something akin to concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall might think the chapters are short af and u'd be right
> 
> but i mean ive already wrote like 20k words for this fic they will get longer watch it


	3. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since the first four chapters are so short, there's probably going to be an update later today
> 
> like literally this chapter was just ignis
> 
> also a lot of people have been wondering about how plot is going to happen and i can't say much, but i do have the ending planned out so yeah

When Luna is seven years old, she meets Ignis Scientia through Noct. He is five, two years older than her, yet two years younger at the same time. Her to-be royal advisor has a distinct accent, and Luna immediately recognizes that he is not from Lucis. He also has a rather impressive vocabulary for a child, and sometimes Luna cannot discern the meaning of what he says. Despite being only a child, Ignis tries his best to keep Luna in line as she scrambles around, touching and smelling everything, looking for all the differences between Insomnia and Tenebrae.

“Highness, please desist,” Ignis calls after him in a young voice. “You might hurt yourself.”

Luna looks at him. “You should just call me Noctis,” She says, instead of heeding to his request.

“If I do so, will you get down?” Ignis asks hopefully.

Luna thinks about it. “Ok,” She responds with an easy smile and clambers down her father’s antique cabinet.

“Thank you, Highness.”

“Hey!” Luna yelps in protest. “You promised!”

“Highness, it would be highly improper to call you by your name. You are a prince, so I should call you accordingly.”

But Luna herself is different. She spends less and less time playing with Ravus. In Tenebrae, she is beginning to learn what it means to be the Oracle. She reads the Cosmogony, and of the Six: Shiva, Bahamut, Leviathan, Titan, Ramuh, and Ifrit the Betrayer. She spends many waking hours with Gentiana and her mother, discussing the Gods.

She is taught how to sit straight, speak with grace, move with grace, stay dignified. It is tiring, and more and more often Luna loves to be Noct, to roam more freely with the company of Ignis, with less lessons and more fun.


	4. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i also posted chapter 3 today, if u didn't realize already

When Luna is eight years old, Noct is four and her father comes to her and speaks quietly, “Noctis, my son, there are some things you must know.” He sets her on his knee, like he always does. He looks tired more often than not these days. He opens his mouth and proceeds to explain, in the simplest terms, what Luna has wondering for the past four years of her life.

“The Lucian kings,” He says, “Have been blessed by the gods. They are granted two bodies to reside in as… a safeguard, if you will. Noctis, you must not tell anyone who you reside as in this world as, until one of your bodies perish. It is dangerous for anyone to know.”

He knows, she realizes. Maybe she can… Luna casts her eyes on him. “Even you?” She asks quietly.

Her father looks surprised for a moment, then shakes his head and laughs quietly. “It usually occurs four years after birth, but I see you are not surprised by what I am telling you. It must have already happened, yes?”

Luna nods. “I was someone first, and then I was Noctis too,” She says, letting a bit of her Tenebrae accent slip through.

“Stop,” Her father says, holding up his hand for her to stop speaking. “Do not tell me any more. You must not tell anyone, Noctis, including me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, dad.”

Luna is unordinarily quiet during dinner that night, and Ravus and her mother look at her questioningly, but she simply eats her carrots without complaint, despite their bitter tang.


	5. Nine

When Luna is nine years old, she develops a newfound fascination with dresses, and her mother takes her to the local shops to pick out the ones she likes. She puts them on back at home, and twirls around, laughing as her mother and the servants all applaud and tell her how nice it looks.

She has one that she particularly likes, a dress with periwinkle cloth and some gemstones embedded into it for decoration. She wears it as often as she can, despite her mother gently telling her that the dress will wear more easily if she does not take it off. Ravus laughs and teases that she looks hideous in the dress. Luna laughs and she responds, “Well, why don’t you try it on and see if you look better in it?”

“Boys don’t wear dresses, silly,” Ravus laughs. “Those are only for girls.”

Luna freezes. “... Oh,” She says quietly in response. Ravus notices her sudden change in tone, and ignoring his concern, she carefully retreats to her bedroom.

She’s never thought about it before, but Noctis is a boy, isn’t he? Luna is a girl, and Noctis is a boy, but Noctis is Luna. Does that mean that Noct… can’t wear a dress? Or can he?

As a matter fact, why were boys not allowed to wear certain things? It’s not right, she thinks. Shouldn’t everyone be allowed to look pretty and twirl around for the applause?

She’s determined to find an answer, so she sets out to find Ignis. He is fortunately in the Citadel today, in the library. “Ignis,” she asks him. “Are boys allowed to wear dresses?”

Ignis looks at her. “I don’t think so, Highness.” He says, pushing up his glasses. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wanna know,” Luna-as-Noct answers, trying to faking indifference. “But _why_ aren’t boys allowed to wear dresses? Who made the rule?”

“I…” Ignis frowns, his nose scrunching up in concentration. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Luna deflates in disappointment. “But you know everything,” She protests.

“It’s not in any of the books I read,” Ignis defends himself. “But I’m sure we could find out if we inquired an adult.”

Luna thinks about that. If even Ignis doesn’t understand, it must be something only very intelligent adults can understand, and the wisest adult she knows is… “Ok then, I’ll go ask dad.”

Ignis sighs, bookmarks the page he’s on, and closes the book. “I’ll go with you. I don’t want you going off to make trouble.”

“Ok,” Luna agrees easily. She likes Ignis. Other than Ravus, Ignis is the only person she knows that is somewhat close in age with her. He always looks out for her, and it’s rather nice, she thinks, to know that someone cares about you so much.

Her father is in a meeting, the guards inform her, and he has requested not to be disturbed, but she sits down with Ignis in the adjacent wall so that once her father’s meeting is over, she can speak with him.

It is mid-afternoon, and through the windows Luna can tell that today is cloudless. In Tenebrae, it is overcast, and she can hear a light rain hitting the window. She examines her knees, that are smooth, unblemished. Noct’s knees look similar, but are slightly scuffed from when she tripped earlier that day. She looks at Ignis, who smells like musty books and something else that she cannot identify.

She looks at everything in the near proximity while she waits, until she’s burned the image of the area into her mind. Hours pass, and her father has yet to end the meeting.

When he finally strides through the door, it is late evening and the guards and Ignis have already been begging her to give it up, to go to dinner and ask another day, but Luna shakes her head obstinately. Ravus attempts to get her out of her room for dinner as well, and her response is the same to both.

“I won’t move until I understand.”

“Understand _what_?” Ravus asks through the door, his muffled voice sounding frustrated.

“Why boys cannot wear dresses,” She answers. “Now hush, brother.”

“Wh—” Ravus sputters. “Luna, they just _can’t_ , that’s just the way the world works.”

But before Luna can retort back, her father has bent down to her and picked her up, and Luna-as-Noct’s face brightens. “Dad, I needed to ask you something!”

“I heard from the guards,” Her father laughs kindly, although he still looks as tired as ever. “I’m sorry I could not get to you sooner, Noctis. Come now; let us discuss this over some dinner, shall we?”

He carries her over to the dining hall, and Luna asks, “Dad, why can’t boys wear dresses?”

Her father actually stops walking to glance down at her. “... Noctis, where did you hear that from?” He asks her.

“Everyone,” Luna responds. “But no one knows why. Ignis said I had to ask an adult, so I’m asking you.”

“Well,” He says to her. “Do you wish to wear a dress?”

Luna looks down at her periwinkle dress in Tenebrae, and says, “Yes.”

“Then I don’t see why you anything should hold you back,” Her father tells her. “There’s nothing wrong with boys wearing dresses.”

Luna’s face lights up. “Really?” She says, excited. She has never worn a dress as Noct before, and the dresses from Insomnia are different, but just as pretty as the ones from Tenebrae. “Can I wear one tomorrow?”

He laughs. “I don’t see why not. Why don’t we order one during dinner?”

“Yes!” Luna laughs and scrambles out of her father’s arms. “Dresses!”

In Tenebrae, she finally leaves her bedroom, and Ravus just shakes his head in confusion. “I have no idea what just happened,” He mutters under his breath, and Luna merely laughs.

She ends up choosing a pretty scarlet dress made of satin, and the moment it arrives the day after she puts it on, twirls around in front her father, and he laughs and claps and tells her how nice it looks.

She’s so happy that at the end she straightens up, holding her head up tall, and says as formally and sincerely as she can, “Thank you father, for this wondrous gift. I will hold it dear to my heart.” And curtseys low, the way her mother taught her to express thanks.

When she looks up, her father is smiling good-naturedly. “You are very welcome, Noctis.” He responds, and Luna beams.

(She never wears it again, because it’s not until the next day that finally receives the true answer to her question, when she overhears a council member speaking her father in rapid, urgent tones.

“It’s not right for the Prince to be wearing such attire, King Regis, simply not right —”

“What Noctis wears is none your concern,” Her father says sharply. “You’d best close your mouth now lest you say too much.”

“But King Regis, this is simply unheard of. It’s— it’s downright _perverted_ , that’s what it is —”

“Enough!” He snaps. “I have heard enough. This matter is closed. You are not to interfere with what Noctis chooses to don, or what he chooses not to. Now leave, before I make you.”

But Luna listens more carefully over the next few days, and she realizes that everyone — not Ignis, of course, Ignis is the same as usual — is looking at her when they think she isn’t watching, and she hears whispers of “dress” and “boy” and “wrong.”

And it’s the first time Luna realizes that even though she is Noct, Luna and Noct are not the same at all, because the world has decided certain things that others have accepted as the truth, and not even her father, the strongest man she knows, can stand against that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you ever been hella shook because you thought you were writing fanfiction but it turned into social commentary about how guys can wear dresses too
> 
> well i have
> 
> also, i'm not sure if i explained it well enough and some people have people have been asking about how the luna-noct dynamic works, so i guess i'll try to explain some stuff down here?
> 
> this is the first time luna really acknowledges noct as an actual thing. it's definitely hard to grasp and even harder to explain, but noctandluna has always considered herself as luna, because she was luna first. then noct was born, and she kind of just took that and ran. so luna has always been luna, and sometimes people call her noct but she considers herself luna. this is the point where it slowly starts to change, because she starts to realize that the world expects things of her that they don't expect of noct and vice versa, and she starts forming a distinction between the two in her mind.
> 
> also, next up: noct goes to tenebrae


	6. Twelve

When Luna is twelve years old, Noct is taken out of Insomnia for an outing by the ocean, and she spends the day by the shore, and in the evening, she watches in fascination as the fireflies come alive.

It isn’t until they’re heading back home that the daemon attacks. It’s the most terrifying thing Luna has ever seen or felt. She lays under the dead body of a servant, the pain of a sword wound stinging, and she looks at the daemon helplessly as it raises its blade to deal the final blow.

It never comes.

Instead, her father is here, along with more Crownsguard reinforcements, and it’s the first time she sees her father fight with the Armiger. In an awesome and terrifying feat of strength, he forces the Marilith to tumble down a cliff.

When it is all done and over and Luna-as-Noct’s vision is fading, her hand is clasped by her father’s, and she can only see him in the backdrop of flames, calling “Noctis, Noctis!” over and over again, until she sees no more.

“Lunafreya! Lunafreya!” Her mother calls her urgently and gently shakes her. “Lunafreya, are you alright? You’re shaking!”

“... Mother?” Luna asks, feeling dazed. “I’m… I’m very scared…”

“Oh, Lunafreya,” Her mother murmurs, and draws her in close. “Whatever is the matter? Everything is alright now, darling. Everything is alright.”

But it’s not alright, Luna wants to say. I think I might have died. But she can’t say it, because her mother can’t know, because how can she know if even her father doesn’t. So instead, her forehead scrunches up, and she starts bawling, louder than she’s ever cried in her life.

Her mother hugs her, and it makes her feel a little better, but it’s not fine, she thinks. It’s not fine because Noct might be dead, and she might not ever see Ignis or her father or the Citadel again.

She only knows she is not dead when Noct’s eyes open again, and she is in a world of dreams and cannot get out. She meets Carbuncle and slowly, with its help, she journeys her way through the dream. Luna herself is silent and withdrawn to the point of anxiousness in Tenebrae, rarely eating and practically monosyllabic, absolutely terrified that she will never make her way through the dreamworld and wake as Noct again.

(But she does, with the strength her father lends her, and when Noct awakes, it is in a warm bed and the relieved but proud face of her father over her.)

Then one day, her mother announces that they will be expecting visitors within the next month. “The Crown Prince and King of Lucis will be gracing us with their presence,” She says. “Be prepared to greet them and act as gracious hosts.”

“What are they coming here for?” Ravus asks, curious, while Luna sits still with her eyes wide.

“The Crown Prince has suffered a grievous wound from a daemon attack,” Her mother answers serenely. “He has come here to recuperate.”

Noct is no longer in critical condition, but he is temporarily paralyzed from neck down. “Mother… will I… will Prince Noctis be able to walk again?” Luna asks hesitantly, stumbling over her words. “Will you be able to help m— him?”

Her mother watches her intently, and her gaze is so piercing that Luna looks away, towards the wooden floorboards below. Too late, she realizes that she couldn’t have known that Noct could not walk. But her mother ignores her mishap and simply tells her, “I make no promises, Lunafreya, but I will do everything in my ability to ensure his full recovery.”

Despite her mother’s apparent uncertainty, it eases Luna’s worries. Her mother never fails at anything.

Then there is a day where she wakes and she sees her bedroom, like she often does, but she also sees the familiar architecture and landscape of Tenebrae through another, and she realizes that they are here, here at her home, and Luna-as-Noct sits up as best she can.

Her mother welcomes her father and as they exchange meaningless pleasantries, while Luna looks at her mother with wide eyes — the wrong set of eyes, she thinks, and it is almost surprising that her mother looks the same as she always does, fair-haired and elegant.

Her mother catches her watching though, and she says to her, “Young Prince Noctis, it is good to finally meet you in person.”

Luna can only stare in bemusement, because her mother is talking to her, but she isn’t in the right body, what does she say, until her father nudges her and gently reprimands her, “Noctis, manners.”

“I-it’s nice to meet you too, Queen Sylva,” She manages to stammer out, and her mother gives her a patient smile.

“King Regis, why not take your son to meet my daughter, Lunafreya?” She says to her father. “I’m sure they will get along nicely.”

And so he does, and Luna receives word from a servant that the King and Crown Prince of Lucis are here to see her.

They greet each other almost in a daze, and her father leaves Luna alone with… herself.

Luna looks at Noct, and Noct looks at Luna. Experimentally, Luna raises her hand, and even though she knows that Noct is right in front of her, that she is right in front of herself, it seems almost an illusion that all of her is here, in one place, almost together but not quite.

As Noct, she sees herself raise a hand. She makes Noct try to raise a hand as well, and she remembers too late that Noct is paralyzed from neck down. He can’t move his arms.

But I’m really here, Luna thinks, and steps closer to Noct. All of me is here.

“Hello,” She says. “I’m Luna.”

“... Hi,” He says. “I’m Noct.”

Because Luna has been thinking, thinking, she’s never stopped thinking really, the machinery of her brain whirring, about Noct, about herself, and she thinks, maybe, maybe Luna _isn’t_ Noct.

And it’s strange to think of, Luna realizes, because she and Noct are the same person, aren’t they? Yet they are so different, with different responsibilities, different expectations set upon them, different lives. And for the first time she looks at Noct, Noct who cannot move his body beyond speaking and turning his head, and she really looks, looks at him through a body of a young girl who is on the cusp of growing up, looks at her from the body of a young boy who still just a child, and Noct realizes that even though he is Luna, he also isn’t.

Luna is person, and she’s standing right there, with shoulder length hair and a simple white dress, right there in front of him. She’s not Noct, she can’t be Noct, because Noct is sitting in a wheelchair with the wrong hair and wrong attire.

He’s Noct, and he’s not allowed to wear a dress like Luna. He was attacked by a daemon and he’s injured, while Luna has to be proper and her manners have to be impeccable because she’s going to be the next Oracle, and she can’t roughhouse around with Ravus anymore because it’s improper for girls to do so.

He’s Noct, and she’s Luna, and they are the same but not the same.

“Oh,” Luna says quietly, and the revelation makes her exhale and her shoulders slump.

“Oh,” Noct repeats, and he somehow manages to make himself look even smaller in his wheelchair.

And it’s not necessarily a bad thing, just… different, and different always means change, and change is always scary.

Luna takes Noct’s hand, and they are silent for a long while.

And for a long time, it remains so — Luna and Noct with mother and father and Ravus in Tenebrae, together, and Noct slowly gets better and better and before long he is learning to walk again, one stumbling step at a time. Luna laughs and plays with Ravus and Noct, and her mother and his father watch them all with amused, yet fond gazes.

Of course, it all ends the day the Empire attacks.

And all of a sudden, Luna’s mother is dead, and Ravus crying, shouting “Mother! Mother! King Regis, please, help my mother!” and Noct is being carried away in his father’s arms, and Luna is running close behind, hand clasping father’s, away from the magitek troops, away from Tenebrae, away from Ravus and the collapsed form of her mother.

And Noct is terrified, and buried himself into his father’s chest because he does not want to see it, and Luna is shaking and it takes all her strength to turn back and look at her home being burnt down, her mother (surely she’s not actually dead, a voice offers) and her brother surrounded on all sides, and she thinks,

And she thinks, _I can’t leave_.

Because she will be leaving, won’t she? Noct will go with father, and she is Noct, and she will be safe and she will be alright if Noct is alright, he will be the one that will always be protected by father, he promised already, so many years ago, that he would always protect him and he hasn’t failed yet, so Noct will be alright.

Because Luna is going to be the next Oracle, and she is the Princess of Tenebrae and she will not and cannot leave her land and her people behind to go flee to another kingdom that is not her own (even though it is, even though she’s lived in Lucis all her life), she has a duty and a task to fulfill and it would be incredibly selfish of her not to do so.

And so she thinks, _I can’t leave_ , and with a strength of will she doesn’t know she has, she lets go of her father’s — of King Regis’ hand, and when he turns back to look at her in surprise and sorrow, he has no choice but to leave her behind because he also has a duty to fulfill — to return to his people, to protect his son.

 _I love you_ , Luna thinks, but once again, her father cannot hear the words. So much is happening, and the magitek troops have caught up to her, and she wants to cry, but she mustn’t show weakness to the enemy, so Noct is the one who grasps his father and bawls, for his dead mother and fallen country and Luna, and his father holds him, but not her.

And Tenebrae falls.

(When it is all over and done, Gentiana appears. “She leaves them in your care,” She says, in her soft, accented voice, and is gone before Luna has time to look up. Where she stood lays Pryna and Umbra, the faithful messenger dogs her mother owned.

They’re Luna’s now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from here on out, luna will be "she" and noct will be "he."
> 
> also, thanks yall for the support for this story! the fic was purely for me to express a lot of thoughts i had about ffxv, but im glad some people found enjoyment out of it.


	7. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was telling friends irl that a year from now, im gonna be reading this fic and im gonna be all like
> 
> "boi wat was i on when i was writing this its so wild what happened"

When Luna is fourteen years old, Tenebrae is merely a province of Niflheim, and the royal family now only House Fleuret. Things have changed, and Ravus has changed, and sometimes Luna looks in the mirror and wonders if she’s the only thing that hasn’t.

Life in the Crown City is better, but it’s a luxury that Luna can’t afford to focus on. So much of her energy is spent in Tenebrae, fighting for her people and for at least some small extent of political autonomy from the Empire, that Noct is constantly tired and miserable, lacking the will to do much of anything.

His father and Ignis realize that ever since the accident he sleeps more, that he speaks less, that he’s less cheerful, and that he’s just a little bit less of everything. Noct notices it in the increasingly older look his father gives him and the way Ignis speaks to him, more slowly, more carefully, as if he’s going to break with even the slightest harsh sound.

And he feels terrible, that he’s making them worried, but at the same time he’s too tired to feel guilty, and so he can’t help but continue on the only way he can, and as Luna works harder and harder, Noct only gets more sullen, and he closes himself off more and more.


	8. Sixteen

When Luna is sixteen years old, too many things happen. She ascends as the youngest Oracle in history. She also meets the first love of her life.

It’s a girl around her age, newly hired, and Luna sees her walking down the hallways dusting furniture in the afternoon ever so often, and she’s suddenly struck by the girl’s crimson hair and how it flares in the sun, and how her freckles are especially pronounced on the left side of her face. And there’s one time that the girl turns around, and they make eye contact, and the girl turns away quickly as if she’s embarrassed.

Luna watches the girl out of the corner of her eye for months.

Then one day, she is gone, and Luna hears the maids gossiping about how the girl is moving to Gralea, and to her surprise she feels a sharp disappointment that the girl is gone, and that Luna will probably never see her again. It is only months later that Luna realizes what the girl with red hair and freckles meant to her, and she spends the next few days absolutely mortified by the implications — what if people noticed, what if the girl knew, but at the same time she’s happy, terribly happy that she liked someone, and maybe one day someone will like her back.

The day she becomes Oracle is sunny and bright and Luna is a nervous wreck. The maids fuss over her clothing and her appearance and try to ease her fears.

“You’ll be fine, Lady Lunafreya, nothing will go wrong.”

“But what if —” Luna tries to say, but she is quickly cut off.

“No buts, Lady Lunafreya.”

And to her immense surprise, the maids are right, nothing goes wrong that day. But being Oracle is difficult, and Luna is often called to different areas of Tenebrae to cleanse the ever rising numbers daemons. She and Gentiana spend more time together than not, and Umbra and Pryna are constant companions at her side.

She sees Ravus less and less now, and he only becomes colder and more distant. Ever since the invasion, Luna looks at him and she doesn’t see the same brother she once knew. He’s always angry, angry at Lucis, angry at King Regis, angry at Noct.

“Brother,” She sometimes says. “Ravus, please, it was not their fault.”

“He could have helped,” Ravus always snarls back. “King Regis could have helped mother. But he didn’t.”

And there are so many things Luna wants to tell him, that King Regis has a duty to his own people, the way you do to Tenebrae Ravus, and sometimes doing your duty is the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurts, and by hating Noct you’re hating me as well, but she knows he won’t listen and there are some things she simply cannot say, so she keeps her mouth shut and lets the rift between them grow.

There’s a point in time where Luna’s sent Pryna to Noct so that he can send her some trinkets from the Crown City. Pryna never reaches him, and he’s terrified, but he can’t even go out to search for her because people would question how he knew she was missing, so Noct spends his days in restlessness while Luna asks Gentiana worriedly whether she knows anything, to which she always shakes her head.

Then one day, Umbra sits up and runs out to the garden, and to her delight, Pryna is back. There is a monogrammed handkerchief that she suspects was used as a makeshift bandage for a wound tied to her hind leg, and it reads _Prompto_ , a name that rings a distant bell in her mind.

With the help of Gentiana— whom she suspects actually went to Lucis to track him down— she finds out Prompto is the quiet, bespectacled boy in Noct’s class. She doesn’t know much of him, but every time Noct sees him, he’s always alone and taking pictures of animals.

So she writes him a letter as best she can, thanking him for his care of Pryna, and as almost an afterthought, she adds _I hope you continue to be good friends with Noctis,_ because it seems a nice way to end her letter. But she wants to thank him with more than just a piece of paper, she gifts him the newest version of a popular camera model, and hopes that it will be enough to express her gratitude.

Noct sees Prompto around a few weeks later, and he’s trying to get Noct’s attention, waving his new camera around when he trips on some gym equipment. He helps Prompto up, but the bell rings and their meeting is cut short. But Noct is interested, curious even, of the boy who cared for Pryna so kindly, so he looks for Prompto after school ends, but the boy is nowhere to be seen.

School solicits mixed feelings from Noct. On one hand, he prefers it to the private tutoring that Luna received, because it makes him feel more connected, and more like everyone else. At the same time, he has no friends. In part, that’s from everyone calling him prince and it’s strange really, why would anyone call him that if they wanted to be friends? People respect royalty, and Noct doesn’t want just respect, he wants friendship.

But another large part of it is because Noct isolates himself. He isn’t quite sure why he does, but Luna is always tired of talking to people, and sometimes he just wants more time alone, which is strange really, since that’s all he gets these days (apart from Ignis, he always likes spending time with Ignis).

But Noct wants to know Prompto, because Prompto saved Pryna for him and Noct wants to know what kind of person he is, if he likes cats as much as he likes dogs, if he knows how to do math well because if not Noct can probably help him. But every time he looks, Prompto runs. It’s the strangest thing, because Prompto was the one who reached out to Noct first, but now he actively avoids him.

But there’s nothing Noct can do about it, so one day when he’s about to get into the car, he looks around one last time to see if Prompto is there and Ignis asks him what’s the matter, he swallows his disappointment and says it’s nothing, nothing at all.

Noct is twelve now, and he’s starting to learn how to fight. He’s not very good at it, and a large part of it is because he isn’t trying. Noct _knows_ he has to learn how to fight and defend himself, and one day he has to master the king’s magic. He just…

In the past few years, Luna and Noct have developed a coping mechanism for stress — the more Luna works, the less Noct does. When Luna stresses, Noct relieves it. When Luna is tired and she can’t show it, Noct does it for her. He’s always terribly moody and sullen, sleepy, and generally insufferable. It’s a terrible way to do things, but it’s the only solution he’s come up with, and Noct knows that he’s not going to be able to do this forever, the same way he knows he has to learn to fight and learn to be king, but it’s so easy like this, to be an outlet for Luna because she’s always so tired, and it’s only going to be worse if Noct starts as well.

So he knows what he has to do, he just doesn’t do it.

They have the Amicitia son come in to teach him, and it’s perfect because Gladiolus is going to be his Shield when Noct is king, the way Clarus Amicitia is to his dad, so it’s best if they meet now and develop a strong, working relationship.

And from the first time they meet, Noct knows that he and Gladiolus are not going to get along, because Gladiolus expects everything from him, and Noct isn’t going to live up to expectations. Every time he trains with him, Noct stumbles and falls, and Gladiolus says, “Get up,” and makes him try again. Noct does so half-heartedly, and he feels the mounting disapproval radiating from his new bodyguard, even if he doesn’t say anything.

When Gladiolus knocks him down once again, Noct lets himself lay on the floor for just a few extra moments so he won’t have to look at the frustrated expression on his trainer’s face. It’s a terrible feeling, really, to know that someone is disappointed in you and that you could have tried harder, Noct thinks. But when he finally struggles onto his feet, instead of saying, “I will try harder” or “I won’t let you down again,” he looks at Gladiolus and says in his best monotone, “Training’s over. I’m tired.” And he allows himself to slowly walk toward the exit because it’s the easy way out.

So yes, Noct knows that he and Gladiolus are not going to best of friends, and he feels the slightest remorse that he will never be another Ignis, unswervingly loyal, dependable, and always a good friend, but it’s his punishment for being the way he is, so he’ll take it.

Of course, all predictions are blown away the day Noct is told that a young girl who is waiting in the reception wishes to have an audience with him. A servant is walking him to the area when he sees her, the young girl, because she can’t be more than 10, there’s no way she’s working here, scampering through the gardens, and Noct suddenly remembers that he’s left the way to outside the Citadel open for the cats to come and go as they please, and he runs off the path and towards the flora.

“Prince Noctis, where are you going?” The maid calls in alarm.

“Off for a walk,” Noct says distractedly, and runs off in the girl’s direction. There’s only a small chance that the girl would actually be able to find the exit, but he knows how intelligent children can be when they put their minds to something.

And sure enough, he runs after her shadow through familiar, winding passages, and all of a sudden he’s outside the Citadel gates and the girl is nowhere to be seen.

“Where did she go…” Noct mutters under his breath. It’s getting darker by the second, and clouds are starting to gather. It’s unlikely that they’ll be attacked by anything dangerous since they’re still in city limits, but the girl must be terrified.

When he finally finds her, it’s because she’s sobbing and the sun has already set and the rain already starting to fall. “Hey!” He shouts, and runs to her. “Are you alright?”

“Noctis!” She screams, and to his immense surprise, runs to him and clings to him tightly. Most people don’t act quite so familiar when they first meet him, but then again, most people aren’t young girls lost in woods at night.

“Hey, it’s ok,” He says, awkwardly trying to comfort her. “I come out here to play by myself all the time, so I know the way back. Let’s go to the Citadel now, alright?”

She sniffles and nods miserably. “My brother’s gonna kill me,” She whispers, and fresh round of tears spring up.

“Brother?”

“Gladdy,” Iris Amicitia tells him, and Noct’s stomach does an odd flip.

On the way back, she tells him that she was following a cat, and that she came here to Noct because Gladdy told her about him.

“Gladdy talks a lot about you,” Iris says, her good mood returning now that she’s safe and returning home. “He says that you’re—” And she stops and bites her lip, which is rather uncharacteristic of her, given from what Noct’s seen.

Noct sighs. “It’s ok,” He tells her. “You don’t have to finish what you’re saying. I know what your brother thinks of me. It’s my fault anyways, I know I don’t act my best around him.”

“But…” Iris says back. “But Noct, Gladdy has to be wrong! I think you’re great! You saved me!” She looks adorably determined to tell him this, and Noct smiles a little at her face. “Gladdy’s stupid anyway, so he has to be wrong about this!”

When they finally get back, they’re suddenly accosted by servants who cluck over him and Iris and hand them towels and fret. It’s warm inside, and for a second he and Iris look at each other and think that everything might be alright after all, but then Gladiolus is running in through the front doors, wet and his expression furious, and that thought quickly dissipates.

He grabs Iris by the shoulders. “Do you have any idea how much you worried me?” He demands, and Iris can only nod and say, “I’m sorry, Gladdy,” and then all of a sudden Noct’s dad is coming over and he’s asking, “What is the problem, Gladiolus?” And Noct looks at his bodyguard’s enraged face, Iris’ terrified one, and his dad is here now to only make matters worse. The guilt is threatening to make him collapse, because he was the one who left the way out open. Iris shouldn’t be punished any further because he looks at her face and knows that she was terrified enough that she won’t do such a thing again, but Noct is sixteen and no longer a child no matter how hard he tries to pretend he is. He is sixteen and older than Gladiolus and he should’ve known to close the exit, because he _knows_ that it is a matter of safety for everyone in the Citadel, not just himself, and it was incredibly irresponsible of him not to inform anyone of the breach.

So he takes a small breath, and just as Gladiolus is about to tell his dad that it’s nothing, just his sister causing some trouble, Noct says, “It’s not her fault.”

Gladiolus’ gaze immediately snaps to him. Noct pays close attention to the floor. “I asked Iris to come play with me outside,” He continues numbly. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Iris is watching him, shaken, and Gladiolus is a mountain of tension and fury, “You…” He growls at Noct.

Noct’s dad holds his hand up. “Gladiolus, please,” He says, and then turns to Noct. “Noctis,” The king utters, his tone disappointed and disapproving, and Noct wants to sink into the ground and never rise back up. “Noctis, do you have any idea of the danger you put this young girl in?”

Noct doesn’t say anything, and he can’t move his eyes off the floor.

“It was highly irresponsible and careless of you,” His dad continues. “I expected better.” And turns away from him to stride away, as if he can’t bear to look at the disappointment of a son he has. “You’re grounded. Now go to your room and clean yourself up.”

And so he leaves, with the glare of Gladiolus burning into his back, so intense that he thinks there will be a pair of eye-shaped holes through him. Noct forces himself not to think about it, about Iris or Gladiolus or his dad, and puts one step forward at a time until he reaches his room.

That night, he lies awake in his bed after all the lights have been turned off and he stares blankly at the ceiling. Luna turns to her side and looks at her nightstand.

This isn’t going to work, Noct thinks.

No, it really isn’t, Luna thinks.

But there’s nothing to do but _this_ , so Noct closes his eyes and drifts into an uneasy sleep.

The next day, Gladiolus deliberately interrupts Noct when he’s writing his supplementary essay his father’s assigned, and Noct looks up warily. Is he here to beat him up for endangering his sister? But Gladiolus simply asks Noct to have a training session with him, and says, “You’re not the only one being punished here.”

Noct doesn’t understand, but Gladiolus doesn’t look angry or tense, and it’s as if the enraged Amicitia from last night was never there, and the way he looks at Noct is a bit different, like he can’t seem to figure him out. So Noct doesn’t understand, but he agrees nonetheless.

Training goes the same as usual, but then halfway through Gladiolus says, “We need to talk.”

Noct looks up at him from the ground. “About what?”

“Don’t act coy,” He retorts. “Iris told me what actually happened last night.”

A part of Noct wonders what it is with Amicitia blood that makes the siblings act so familiar with him, but he pushes the thought aside and he lies, “I told you what happened.”

Gladiolus rolls his eyes and sets down his training sword, sitting down next to Noct. “Yeah. Right.”

“What do you want?” Noct asks shortly, because if Gladiolus knows, then can he kindly get to his point already?

“Look, Prince Noctis,” And he looks utterly serious when he says it, and Noct can’t help but notice for the millionth time that Gladiolus’ eyes are always intense, and he’s always feeling _something_. “Thanks for saving Iris.”

Noct shrugs.

“You’re not a bad kid, but I’m not going to go easy on you,” Gladiolus continues. He grins fiercely at Noct. “Look, ok? I’m an Amicitia, which means one day I’m gonna be your Shield. And in order to protect you, I’m going to need you to know how to protect yourself. So you have to take our sessions more seriously than you are.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Noct retorts bitterly. “I just _can’t_ , ok?”

“That’s got to be the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s nothing stopping you but yourself,” Gladiolus points out, and Noct and Luna don’t know this yet, but that’s the the line that keeps them going for the next few years.

“And that’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard,” Noct says back, even though it’s true, he really is the only one holding himself back.

 _I need to be better,_ Luna thinks to herself. _There are too many people that depend on me._

 _I need to be better,_ Noct thinks to himself. _Because I’m free now, but one day I won’t be._

Noct’s been trying to think of a better solution, but maybe there’s no solution, exactly. He just… has to try harder, has to be better than what he is right now.

So he gets up, and this time, instead of saying I’m tired, let’s stop, he says, “I won’t let you down,” and _Gladio’s_ grin widens and he gets up too, and Noct also doesn’t know this now, but it’s also the start of something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so gladio finally showed up and i promise romance is gonna be reel ok
> 
> its in like 2 chapters i promise its pretty wild and stuff


	9. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is entirely unrelated to the chapter (but relevant to how i write him i guess) but does anyone rly hate ravus
> 
> i do i hate him so much and its not even bc i dont like his personality or something i just don't understand wtf he was supposed to be he just represents a plot hole like is he good or bad
> 
> dlc better fix him otherwise im gonna scream

When Luna is eighteen years old, the first thing she does the night of her birthday is to get smashingly drunk. She prepares well, though, locking the door of her room behind her, and making sure Noct is fast asleep so he won’t do something he’ll regret. But when Noct wakes up the next morning, he’s feeling the effects of Luna’s hangover, and he tells himself that just because Luna can now legally drink, he’ll never consume alcohol again.

(He does, in fact, drink again.)

Noct’s been trying harder, trying to do what he has to do, but it’s difficult. Training still goes slow, and Noct knows he’s progressing slower than average, but it’s one thing to walk with two bodies and another to try and fight in one and do politics in another. As it turns out, Noct and Luna are just naturally lazy as well. It’s not a great combination.

Puberty hits Noct… oddly. He has the dubious honor of going through it twice, and the second time just might be worse than the first. His height shoots up, and soon girls are looking at him a little differently than they had before.

And it’s odd, because Luna had to suffer through monthly pains and ever-so-often mood swings, and Noct doesn’t necessarily have those, but he’s angrier now, and before when he would simply suffer through something in silence or felt like crying, now he wants to yell and scream.

Noct is scared by this, and Luna is scared by this, because it’s something Noct has but Luna doesn’t, and it makes them feel like their more different than ever.

When Noct starts high school that spring, and it’s a surprisingly hassle-free affair. He gets new uniform, new textbooks, and in the morning Ignis drives him to a different location, and that’s about it. So when he’s walking to the gates of his new school, he’s not expecting anything to change much, until someone taps him on the shoulder and a bright voice says, “Hey!”

And it’s Prompto Argentum, the Prompto who saved Pryna years ago, only he’s lost his glasses and his entire demeanor is entirely changed. He’s definitely taller, and his hair is styled in a different manner. Without the blond color, Noct probably wouldn’t have recognized Prompto at all. Now he’s smiling impishly, his eyes friendly and bright, and he says to Noct, “Hey! I’m Prompto Argentum; it’s nice to meet you.”

Noct can’t keep the surprise out of his face for a second. But then he snorts and shakes his head, because he really doesn’t understand what Prompto is trying to do. “Haven’t we met before?” He asks dryly.

Prompto turns red and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh… well…”

But Noct will take whatever he gets, because Prompto didn’t call him “Your Highness” or “Prince” and when he looks at Noct he doesn’t _want_ anything, so Noct claps him on the back and says, “C’mon, let’s go check whether we’re in the same class this year.”

They are, as a matter a fact.

Ignis is now sixteen, and he’s attending council meetings for Noct, filling him in on all the newest developments with the Empire. In truth, Luna has been paying close attention to interactions between Lucis and Niflheim as well, so much of what Ignis informs him of is helpful for a recap, but at the same time very useless.

Noct rarely sees his father these days, either. He’s always been somewhat absent due to his duties as king, and Noct can only ever really see him during mealtimes, but now Noct never sees him at dinner and it’s only ever so rarely that he joins him for breakfast. Noct has never been so consciously aware of the shimmering Wall surrounding Insomnia, and how his father’s hair grows gray, and his face is more aged than it should be.

He doesn’t want see it, any of it, and then one day he finds out that his father’s been purposely delaying his responsibilities as king in order to spend just the smallest time with his son.

A small part of Noct is terribly grateful, because his father loves him and it’s wonderful to know, but the larger, more rational part of his mind tells him that no, this can’t happen. His dad has no time, no time to care for Noct. He’s always tired, and Luna can only barely understand how strenuous it is to run a kingdom as well as maintain the Wall. He _can’t_ have time, and Noct is only going to make his hair grayer and his face more lined.

So he requests an audience with the king, and when it is granted, he asks to live outside the Citadel, on his own.

His father looks at him, and says, “Why?”

(And in another world, maybe Noct would be a bit more awkward, a bit more shy and bad at communicating, a bit less _Luna_ , and he might lie and tell his father that he wants independence, he wants freedom, and he’s tired of everyone in the Citadel pampering him and he might even end up implying that his father’s too overbearing, too protective.)

Noct raises his head and tells him the truth.

“Because I’m worried about you,” He says. “And I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about me. Just focus on what matters, Dad.”

His father is silent for a long while, and the guards shift nervously until he dismisses them.

“Noctis,” He says, once they are gone. “You needn’t worry about me.”

“Yes, I do,” Noct shoots back. “I can tell you’re tired, ok? And I don’t want you to overwork yourself. Just… I’m doing fine, aren’t I? I know you try to take care of me, and I appreciate it, but you really don’t need to. I don’t want you to…”

He trails off, distressed, but the meaning is clear. _I don’t want you to die._ Because his mother is already dead, cold and silent and below the surface of the earth.

His father lets out a small sigh. “Noctis. You tell me this, but you are just as important to me as Lucis is. How can I simply…” He trails off as well, looking at Noct sadly. Noct looks at him beseechingly.

“Just let me _do_ this for you.” He says, and adds quietly, “Please. It’d make me feel a lot better.”

The last part seems to get to him, and his father looks thoughtful. Then suddenly, without any apparent reason, he abruptly switches the subject.

“My son, have I ever told you about the other me?”

The sentence in itself doesn’t quite seem to mean anything, but Noct tenses, knowing what he’s getting at. “I thought we weren’t allowed to speak about it.”

“Well, it’s a rather moot point, since my other body has long since left this world.” His father tells him, and his eyes are wistful. “I was a citizen of Accordo, before it fell to the Empire. Just an ordinary man, with a simple life.”

“Huh.” It’s a bit interesting to hear about who his father was, and Noct stores this particular tidbit of information for later consideration.

“My point is, living a life in the city will be very different from what you are used to. I know another you is out there on Eos as well, but you are not from Lucis, are you?” His father says, referring to the time Luna let her accent slip.

Noct nods in agreement, and he continues. “Living in Insomnia will be a very different experience, and I will not feel entirely comfortable leaving you entirely on your own. Is it alright with you if you were to receive assistance? I will assign someone to keep tabs on you, and if they feel that you cannot live alone properly, then you will return to the Citadel.”

It’s more than Noct could have asked for, so he takes the deal.


	10. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys istg i'm so proud of this chapter but it was so long it took me like 2 weeks to write im pretty sure it doubled the word count of this fic
> 
> also romance is not my strong suit i had no idea what i was doing so take note that it was wild and then take pity on me

When Luna is twenty years old, King Regis gifts Noct with the Engine Blade for his sixteenth birthday, and he hates it. Hates it so much, in fact, that he refuses to use it in his next training session with Gladio.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gladio asks, but his tone is not unkind. “You got a better blade, so use it.”

“It’s not that simple,” Noct grumbles, but he does admit that the line of reasoning is sound, and with great reluctance, he materializes it.

He’s been learning how to use the crystal’s magic, and Noct’s ability to perform point warps is abysmal. His father tells him that he’s actually not doing that badly, but it doesn’t feel like it. He’s getting better at fighting, too, but it’s slow going.

Gladio is an absolute terror in training, and he never goes easy on Noct, but he’s a surprisingly good companion outside the training room. He’s a strange mix of confidence and passion and warmth, and when he laughs Noct can’t help but laugh as well, even though more often than not it’s at his expense.

They go lots of places, and he’s the one that takes Noct to the banks of the river that flows through the city, and teaches him how to fish, and amidst Noct’s protests (“Are you serious, Gladio?! Right here, in the middle of the city? Are you sure this isn’t against the law?”) he actually enjoys it, and finds out that he has a knack for it.

Next time they go to the lake at the edge of the Insomnia though, because as it turns out, it actually is illegal to fish in the river.

School is now an infinitely better experience with the company of Prompto. It turns out they have similar interests — video games and animals. It’s with Prompto that he goes to the arcade after school, and they stop at the mall to look at all the newest games, and Noct accompanies Prompto around the city so he can take pictures.

The first time they do that, Noct notices the camera Prompto’s holding — it’s the one Luna gave him as a thank you all those years ago, and Prompto notices him looking at it, and laughs. “It was a gift from someone,” He says, looking at it fondly. “It — well, it means a lot to me.”

That doesn’t make any sense, because Prompto hasn’t even met Luna, so how could it mean a lot, and there are a lot of things about Prompto that Noct doesn’t understand, but Prompto is always cheerful and kind, and Noct couldn’t ask for a better friend.

There’s a day when they’re in the mall, and Noct says, “Hold on a sec,” to Prompto and walks into a store.

“Noct?” Prompto asks, and follows him in.

Noct walks to the small rack of nail polish, and he’s choosing between colors and tells Prompto, “There’s a sale going on, so I might as well buy some.” Luna can’t get a hold of this stuff quite as easily as Noct can, and she definitely doesn’t have as many color options.

“Oh… ok,” Prompto says, obviously surprised, but he easily accepts Noct’s words as the truth.

And the old lady working at the cashier looks at him suspiciously, and asks him who he’s buying it for, and honestly, he understands that as royalty he’s required to keep a respectable image, but Noct’s kind of done with people like her and even Luna’s feeling rather bold today, so he tells her the plain truth and answers, “Myself.”

The lady’s face is priceless, and Prompto looks rather gobsmacked himself, and Noct grabs his purchase and calmly walks out of the shop.

“Oh. My. God,” Prompto breathes once they’ve left. “Did you see her face? She looked like you mauled her or something!”

Noct snorts, and allows a smile to flicker through. It was kinda funny. “Yeah.” He agrees easily.

There’s a small lull in conversation, and then —

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto says, looking completely serious. “You know I won’t judge you about this kind of stuff, right? It’s perfectly fine if you wanna paint your nails, or put on makeup, or anything else; I won’t care.”

Noct’s smile widens. “Yeah,” He repeats. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Prompto.”

“You’re welcome.” Prompto winks at him. “Oh hey look! That sunset’s really pretty. Lemme go take a picture of it.”

So yes, there are many things about Prompto that just don’t make sense, but Noct’s fine with that.

And then there is Ignis — Ignis, who has been with Noct since he was a toddler, and has always helped him and has always been there for him.

And it’s not good.

“Highness, consider adding more vegetables to your diet. Highness, have you read the newest reports? Highness, please, study more for your next exam, your scores were suboptimal at best.”

It’s all things Noct knows he should do, and he’s trying, but it’s still hard (Except for the vegetables, that’s just him being picky). Ignis is a genius, always has been, and Noct isn’t. It’s a bit easier since Luna’s learned everything before, but still, she’s long forgotten, so Noct finds academics difficult. Luna’s job is politics though, so she keeps an eye on Lucian affairs, but she doesn’t know everything, and sometimes Noct is too tired to go over Ignis’ reports.

The fact of the matter is, the things Ignis expects of him is hard enough for an ordinary person, and Noct has to deal with managing two lives, and he’s actually trying now, and it’s just difficult.

(And of course, there’s always the one real reason beneath all the excuses that Noct doesn’t like to think about.)

And it’s ridiculous, because Ignis is only looking out for Noct, like he always has, and Luna appreciates it with a sort of resigned manner that she will never quite live up to expectations. Yet the same emotion expresses itself as anger in Noct, and he’s angry, pissed that Ignis tries to force him to do things he doesn’t want to do, and that he can’t understand what Noct is going through.

Well, it’s obvious he doesn’t know, that he can’t understand, Luna thinks. Because I haven’t told him anything, and I can’t tell him.

And it’s stupid for me to be angry, Noct thinks. Because he’s only looking out for me. So he swallows his anger, and continues on. It’s not the best solution in the world, and Noct knows that Ignis can tell he’s upset, but he doesn’t want to be mad at him, so this is the only thing he can do.

Then one day Noct comes after dinnertime and Ignis is there, waiting for him.

“You’re late,” He says, tone disapproving. “Exams ended in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, well,” Noct says back, forcing himself to not retaliate. “I was out with Prompto at the arcade.”

Ignis’ brow furrows. “Perhaps you should consider spending less time with him,” He says very carefully. “This… Prompto seems to have a corrupting influence on you.”

“What?” Noct exclaims. “You’re kidding, right? Prompto hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Your Highness,” Ignis says, the very picture of calm and cool. “Ever since you’ve started high school, your study habits have deteriorated. You stay out later than you should. Your focus right now should be on your academics and learning your duties as king. The day you ascend if closer than you think. I’m not saying that you can’t have classmates as friends, but this Prompto—”

“Look, Ignis,” Noctis interrupts him. “You’ve never even met Prompto. Don’t involve him in this—”

“Your Highness,” Ignis says, and he looks genuinely concerned for Noct, but Noct’s really starting to not care about what Ignis thinks, because if he’s going to insult Prompto— “Your Highness, listen to me. You need to—”

“Why should I care about what I need?!” Noct snaps. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“I—”

But the words are pouring out, and neither he nor she can stop them. “I can’t do this ok? I can’t keep going on like this, with you telling me that I need to this and I need to that,” Noct cries. “I just can’t do it!”

“But you _have_ to,” Ignis tries to say. “You have to, Highness, because you have a duty to —”

“To the people, I know!” Noct shouts, rapidly losing his cool. “And to my father, I know! I know, I know, I know! You think I don’t know, Ignis! You think I don’t know?! Of course I know! It’s been drilled into my brain the moment I was born!”

And how true that is, the way Luna grew up knowing she was going to be Oracle, the way Noct was born knowing he was to be king — they’ve known, but knowing and doing, as they have also long understood, are two very different things.

“You need to stop,” Noct snarls, and he doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his mouth anymore, because this is nothing Luna would ever say, and he doesn’t even know why he’s saying it, and — “I can’t do this, Ignis, so just fucking _stop._ ”

There’s a tense, unfriendly silence between them, with Noct taking deep, angry, breaths and Ignis watching him, obviously shaken by this outburst. Noct has never been the screaming sort.

“It seems,” Ignis manages to get out. “That no matter what I say, reason won’t reach you now. I’ll take my leave. Your dinner is on the table.”

“Fuck,” Noct mutters under his breath, and since he has a shred of decency beneath his facade of anger, he says louder, his voice still shaking. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Ignis. I didn’t mean what I said, and I’m really upset right now, but I’m so sorry.”

Ignis is collecting his things, and he pauses when Noct says that, but doesn’t say anything. Noct hears his footsteps as he walks to the exit, the click of the front door when it closes behind him.

“Fuck,” Noct repeats, then sinks down into his couch and mushes his face into the pillows. He didn’t mean that. He really, really, didn’t mean that.

He should go out there, run after Ignis, apologize properly, but he can’t right now. And he doesn’t know what to do, so with shaking hands he fishes his phone out of his pocket and calls Gladio.

Gladio picks up almost immediately, his voice deep and calm. “Noct? What is it?”

“Gladio,” Noct mutters, and he’s not even ashamed that his voice cracks a little. “Can you get over here?”

“Woah,” Gladio’s voice is somehow incredibly soothing, and Noct’s already relaxing a little. “What’s wrong, princess?”

“Got into a fight with Ignis,” Noct admits. “I… don’t really know what I’m doing. Can you just come over for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gladio responds easily. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

When he gets there, Noct’s still lying on the couch, and he looks up blearily when he hears Gladio’s heavy footsteps.

“Hey,” Gladio greets. “You look like you’ve had a night.”

“Tell me about it,” Noct groans, and he adjusts himself into an upright position so Gladio can sit as well. Only he doesn’t, he’s walked over to the table where the food Ignis prepared for him is sitting.

“Naw, this ain’t gonna work,” Gladio mutters as he looks at the meal, and turns to Noct. “We need to some comfort food.”

Noct tries to gets up to help Gladio, but he pushes Noct back onto the couch. “You stay right there, Prince Charmless.” Gladio says, and rolls his shoulders, like he’s preparing himself for something.

“Umm,” Is Noct’s graceful answer, because he has no idea what Gladio’s trying to pull.

So he sits on the couch in bemusement as Gladio bustles around in the kitchen, looking completely out of his element, yet at the same time he seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He grabs two mugs, takes the milk out of the fridge and pours both cups up to the brim, then proceeds to microwave them.

While the microwave hums, Gladio rummages around the cabinets in consternation. “I could’ve sworn there was some…” He grumbles, and then he grins. “Aha!” And pulls out some hot chocolate mix. He waggles his eyebrows at Noct and shakes the container enticingly.

Noct unwittingly laughs. “What the heck,” He says. “Gladio, what the hell are you even doing?”

“Just wait for it,” Gladio responds, just as the microwave dings. He proceeds to pour a generous amount of powder into each cup, and he mixes it in with a spoon.

Gladio hands one of the cups to Noct, which he takes gratefully, but not without some suspicion. “What are you up to?” Noct asks him. “I have no idea what’s going on anymore, but I am very suspicious. Is there poison in this or something?”

Gladio laughs, deep and rich. “Relax, Noct,” And he winks at him. “If I wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t be through hot chocolate. I’m not wasting any of this stuff for assassination.”

He walks into Noct’s bedroom, and when he comes out he’s armed with a mound of blankets, which he proceeds to throw onto Noct, who sputters and barely manages to keep the swathe of blankets from falling into his cup.

And then Gladio pulls out a tub of strawberry ice cream from the freezer, grabs the scoop, and sits down next to Noct, a cup in one hand and the tub in the other.

“Gladio, _what the hell,_ ” Noct says flatly. “Did you just come over here to eat my food?”

“Hey, if you eat something hot, you gotta eat something cold too,” Gladio says, setting the ice cream between them and taking a sip from his cup. “It’s called a balanced diet.”

“You can’t be serious,” Noct says in despair. “You actually did. You came here to _eat my food._ ”

Gladio laughs and swings an arm around Noct. “Don’t you worry your pretty little ass, princess.”

Noct sighs and leans on Gladio’s shoulder. Gladio is tall, taller than Noct, and way bigger than Luna ever was when she was nineteen. “I can’t believe you,” He mutters. “Gladiolus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, hot chocolate thief.”

He takes a sip of from his mug. It’s good.

They sit underneath the pile of blankets for a bit in companionable silence, until Gladio speaks up. “You know, me and Iris used to do this all the time,” He says. “Whenever she would start crying, I’d just bury her under a bunch of blankets and we’d just eat ice cream until we both felt ok again.”

Noct sneaks a look at Gladio. He’s looking at Noct, his eyes warm. “Are you saying I’m an eleven year old?” Noct grumbles, and takes another sip.

“Well, you sure act like one,” Gladio retorts, but in a kind manner. “And you’re feeling a lot better, right?”

With a start, Noct realizes that he hasn’t thought about Ignis at all since Gladio’s gotten here. “... Yeah,” He admits. “You’re right. Thanks, Gladio.”

“You’re welcome,” Gladio responds, draining the last of his hot chocolate, and he proceeds to set the empty mug on the floor. “Now, tell me what happened with Specs.”

“I got mad at him,” Noct says. “And I said a lot things I didn’t mean to say.”

“Things have been tense between you two for a while,” Gladio notes, and takes off the cap of the ice cream tub, and proceeds to eat straight from the tub. “Want some?”

“You’re such a pig,” Noct complains, but he takes the proffered spoon and scoops up some ice cream for himself.

There’s another lull in conversation while they eat, and then Noct says, “I feel really bad that I yelled at him. Ignis didn’t do anything wrong, I just couldn’t control my temper.”

Gladio is silent for a bit, and then he says, “You know, Iggy’s been over at my place more than once, fretting over you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He closes his eyes. “He’s worried that you don’t understand the position in you’re in.”

“But I do,” Noct bursts out. “And he doesn’t get that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him.” Gladio replies, and the arm around Noct reaches to ruffle his hair. “You’re a bit smarter than that, at least. But that doesn’t sound like he ‘didn’t do anything wrong’ to me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Noct says. “Ignis is just trying to help me. I shouldn’t have yelled. I really should apologize.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Gladio agrees. “But at least you acknowledge that you did, and that it was wrong. Just talk to him, Noct. Ignis will listen to you, you know.”

“... Yeah.” Noct agrees, and then he remembers something else. “Oh, and he called Prompto a ‘bad influence.’”

“Prompto? That kid you know from school?” Gladio asks, and then guffaws. “I’ve never met him, but from what you’ve told me, he sounds like an absolute sweetheart.”

“Basically,” Noct hums and inches closer to Gladio. “I guess… I better tell that to Ignis myself.”

“You got it,” Gladio agrees, and then, “Man, what did you even need me for? You already had all that figured out.”

Noct thinks about it, and he realizes that yes, he already knew what he needed to do. But he felt horrible, and there was a churning feeling and an acrid taste in his mouth from what he said. Since Gladio’s come, though, it’s dissipated. So he shrugs and says, “So you could make me hot chocolate, I guess.”

“You’re so spoiled,” Gladio retorts good-naturedly, and then pushes Noct’s head off his shoulder. “Alright, I need to head out soon, otherwise Iris is gonna start wondering whether I’ve been kidnapped.”

“Who would want to kidnap you?” Noct teases. “I’m the obvious, better looking target.”

“Shut up.”

And so Gladio leaves, but he leaves the feeling of warmth and love draped over Noct.

So the next day, Noct’s looked over the reports he’s been given and is in the process of studying when Ignis bursts in, breathing hard like he’s been running, his glasses askew.

“Woah, Iggy?” Noct looks up in alarm. “Are you ok?”

“Your Highness,” Ignis gasps. “I…” It’s the most harried Noct has ever seen him, and then to his horror, Ignis looks like he’s about to cry.

Noct rushes to his side, and sits Ignis down at the nearest chair. “What happened?” Noct asks. “Are you going to be ok?”

Ignis shakes his head, and Noct’s not sure whether it’s supposed to be a ‘no I am not going to be fine’ or ‘no I am not fine but i will be later’ because really, you’d expect it to be the first but sometimes people are odd and it’s the latter—

“Your father,” Ignis says haltingly, cutting off Noct’s unnecessary inner ramblings, “Felt the need to inform me about some confidential information regarding… the nature of the Lucian kings.”

And there’s really only one thing that could be, so Noct says just to confirm, “So he told you about the whole two bodies thing.”

“... Yes.”

“That doesn’t really explain why you look like you’re about to break down,” Noct points out.

“Your Highness,” And Ignis looks up at him with eyes that are just a bit too suspiciously bright. “Please accept my most sincere apologies.”

“What? Ignis, you’re making way less sense than you usually do. I was going to apologize to _you._ ”

He shakes his head once again, and his voice is quiet. “No. I’m sorry, Highness. You were right, I was pushing you too hard.”

“No, you weren’t!” Noct protests and he grabs Ignis’ hands and holds them, because he needs him to understand what Noct is trying to say. “I told you, didn’t I? I know that I’m going to have to do all the stuff you tell me to do, and just because I didn’t try hard enough—”

“That you weren’t trying hard enough?” Ignis repeats, and Noct doesn’t know what to do, he’s never seen and he never will see Ignis this emotional again. “Who in Eos told you that, Your Highness? That you don’t try hard enough?”

Noct gapes like a fish, and then opens his mouth to speak. Ignis gives him a look, so he closes it.

“I don’t think anyone’s acknowledged it. I don’t think you’ve acknowledged it either. But if you look hard enough, Your Highness, anyone can see how hard you try.” Ignis says. “These past few years have been hard on you.”

“Ignis, maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m barely scraping by in all my classes,” Noct interjects. “Gladio hasn’t been complaining, but I know my training is going at a snail’s pace. And you said it yourself; I’ve been slacking off since I entered high school—”

“Oh, toss what I said!” Ignis interrupts, and adds, “And I apologize for trying to blame your friend Prompto. You just might be a worse influence on him than he is on you.”

“Apology accepted,” Noct says automatically, and then, “But Ignis, I _need_ to be better. I can’t just be bad at everything forever—”

“And rest assured, we will work something out. But what we’re doing now isn’t going to work.”

“There’s nothing stopping me but myself,” Noct echoes Gladio’s words from all those years ago. “So it’s fine, Ignis, just keep doing your job.”

“My job is to advise you,” Ignis says, “But it’s more than that. I want you to be a proper king, Your Highness, but I also want you to be happy. Both are important.”

“I’ve known you for a long time,” He continues. “And I know you’re always sleeping, always tired. I never questioned it. But I didn’t understand, you’re tired because of who you are; you live two lives when you should just be living one, and it’s draining.

“For the longest time I’ve tried to make you better by pushing you harder, and for that I’m ashamed.” Ignis finishes. “I’ve known you weren’t happy. Didn’t last night prove it? You’re trying your best, Noct, but I haven’t been the best advisor.”

“Ignis, you’re such an idiot,” Noctis says. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better, ok? Don’t put yourself down like this.”

“Then don’t put yourself down, either. I’m here to help you.” Ignis answers. “I couldn’t have known about your predicament, but now I do, and I want to do better. You most likely remember little about this, but after your accident eight years ago, everyone in the Citadel was terribly worried about you.”

“I remember that,” Noct says, affronted. “How could I forget?”

“You became such a quiet child after that — you rarely laughed, always slept, and it had everyone concerned,” Ignis admits. “I learned to bake because of it, because I knew you enjoyed eating sweets and I didn’t how else to help you.”

Noct never knew that, that Ignis picked up his skill of cooking for him.

“It was terrible, back then — I didn’t know what you needed, and I didn’t know how to make you happy,” He continues. “Your Highness, I never want to feel like that again, and more importantly, I don’t want you to feel like that again. I didn’t have the full picture before, but now I do. So please, Highness, help me do my job and tell me when something is too much.”

And they’re still holding hands, Ignis sitting on a chair and Noct kneeling on the ground, and they look at each other in silence until Noct laughs a bit shakily, and gets out, “... Yeah. Yeah, of course, Iggy.”

For a while they just stay like that, and the ambient light grows dim, and then Noct says, out of the blue, “Ignis, I’m scared about my dad.”

“The king?”

“Yeah.” In the fading light it’s hard to see Ignis’ face, but Noct looks up anyway, his voice thick. “You know he gave me the Engine Blade for my birthday, right?”

“Certainly. Gladio also told me that you hate using it.”

“It’s nice and all, but it reminds me of things I don’t want to think about,” Noct says, and finally gets up from the ground because his legs are starting to fall asleep. He grabs a chair and puts it next to Ignis. “Ignis, I don’t ever want to use it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my dad gave it to me to defend myself, defend this country, and do my duty.” Noct says. “He gave it to me so I could use it as king, and if I’m king then that means he’s dead.

“You know, I saw him on TV the other day. I hadn’t even realized that he started using a cane,” Noct laughs bitterly, and then, “I don’t want my dad to die, Ignis. And it’s stupid, because not looking at your reports and not using the blade he gave me won’t make him live any longer, or make him healthier. I just don’t want to think about it.”

There are some days where Luna will belatedly realize all over again that she’s Oracle because her mother is dead, and she will be King of Lucis once her father is dead too, and Noct can’t let that happen, won’t let that happen.

“It’s stupid, but it’s understandable,” Ignis says to him. “Thank you for telling me this, Your Highness.”

“Call me Noct,” Is what Noct says in return, and every time he says it Ignis will always ignore him, but maybe this time— and he adds, “C’mon, Ignis. It’d make me feel a lot better. And we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Ignis snorts. “Don’t use my words against me,” He tells Noct. “But alright… Noct.”

Then it’s just them, sitting in the dark.

(Afterwards, they eat Cup Noodle together. It’s a nice time, and Ignis asks, “Permission to inform Gladio about this?” and Noct doesn’t even hesitate to say yes. It’s a bit like, well, like a weight has been lifted off his chest and there’s one less thing he needs to hide.)

It’s a few days later when he’s hanging out at the arcade with Prompto and a voice behind them roars, “What are you doing outside of school?” And Prompto yelps and stammers out some excuse, but when Noct turns around it’s just Gladio, dressed in sweats and a cap.

“School ends early during exams, Gladio,” Noct says dryly, and Prompto looks at him in surprise. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Gladio grins, and it’s all teeth. “Caught me there,” He admits, and turns toward Prompto. His stance is still hostile. “So you’re the kid the prince has been talking about.”

“Umm,” Prompto squeaks in response. “Eep.”

Gladio laughs, and the tension disappears from his body. “Relax. Prompto, right? You seem like a cool guy.”

Noct rolls his eyes. “Quit messing with him, Gladio. What’re you here for?”

“Well, Ignis came over and told me some pretty interesting stuff earlier today,” Gladio says casually. “Said that I oughtta talk to you.”

“I mean, sure,” Noct says, and he picks up his schoolbag from the floor. “Sorry, Prompto. Looks like we’re gonna have to cut this short.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” The blond responds easily. “See ya tomorrow.”

So Prompto leaves and Noct follows Gladio out of the arcade, toward the Amicitia residence.

“So, why wasn’t I informed about the whole two body thing?” Gladio asks him, and Noct can only shrug.

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” Noct tells him. “It was Dad who told Ignis. Also, I can’t believe you’re calling it the whole two body thing. That sounds so weird.”

“Got a better name?” Gladio counters. “And the king told Ignis, huh.”

They cross the street. Honestly, Noct can’t believe both Ignis and Gladio are taking it in so calmly. Then again, maybe it isn’t as unbelievable as it seems. He’s always been a bit uncoordinated, and he spaces out or goes to sleep more than he should.

Gladio doesn’t ask Noct who his other body is. They both know that Noct won’t be able to say.

“Ignis told me that I shouldn’t be pushing you,” Gladio speaks up, looking straight ahead. “And I get what he means. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, and I don’t think I want to know. The pressure you’re under must be incredible.”

They round another street corner, and Noct watches Gladio intently. He’s not done yet.

“But, you know what? I don’t think I’m gonna listen to him,” He says, and turns to look at Noct. The sky is orange, and Gladio’s face is bathed in rosy light. “I know you, Noct. You’re a lazy piece of shit.”

“Hey,” Noct protests, but the comment isn’t meant to insult.

“Everyone’s a lazy piece of shit,” Gladio clarifies. “We all need something to push us, otherwise we’re not going to do anything. And I want you to do something with your life, Noct. It’s not like I need you to be the best swordsman around, or be the smartest, or go down as the best ruler in history, but I need you to be a good person and try and _do,_ so I can be proud of the man I’ve set my life down for.”

And that’s when it really hits him, because Noct’s never really understood why Gladio opened up to him. He’s always assumed it was because he helped out Iris, and of course that’s true, but it’s because Gladio is a prideful creature. He’s ever so conscious of his role as Shield, and he’s ever so aware that he’s going to die serving a king. And he’s proud of that fact, and by extension he’s also proud of Noct, of the king, who he can’t accept as anyone but someone good, someone who’s worth it.

(And it’s somehow different from Ignis, who is also deeply devoted to his job. He cares for Noct as best he can, and so does Gladio, but it’s just different. Maybe it can just characterized by what they say, where Ignis says _Let me help you with your burdens, you’re not alone in this_ and Gladio says _In spite of everything you face, I won’t let you slack off_.

In the end, though, they both boil down to _I will help you_ and Noct has never felt so aware of them and how much they do for him.)

Noct studies Gladio’s face. He’s been experimenting with facial hair for a while now. His eyes are just as fierce as they’ve always been. He’s definitely handsome in a rugged, masculine sense. But he looks the same as he always has, in the ways that matter to Noct, strong and dependable and prideful and warm.

He looks the same, he is the same, so it comes out of nowhere, bubbling out of him, and Noct’s surprised even himself, but his brain tells him, you’re in love.

Because he really thinks he might be, and he’s never thought about it before, because it’s nothing like that servant in Tenebrae, he never even knew her, but it’s _Gladio_ and he’s always been there for Noct and he’s funny and he’s kind of jerk sometimes, but Noct likes to be around him, wants to be around him.

Noct _likes_ him.

Oh.

So Noct takes a deep breath, smiles and snarks, “Like I expected anything else,” but his heart his is pounding out of his chest, his palms are suddenly clammy, and his fingers curl into a loose fist.

Gladio doesn’t seem to notice anything, though, and they walk to his house. That night, Noct has dinner with the Amicitias and their butler Jared, and he can’t take his eyes off his food, for fear he’ll stare at Gladio for too long.

Then pretty soon it’s getting late, so he’s saying goodbye to Clarus and Gladio and Iris and he’s walking back to his flat. He stops under one of the flickering streetlights to tie his shoelace.

Noct is in big trouble.

And the same time an ocean away, Luna is with Gentiana and her mouth hangs open agape, before she quickly recovers.

Gentiana says, “The ascension of the Chosen King will be preceded by a covenant of the gods.”

So Luna thinks absently, Oh boy, and brushes the hair out of her face. She cut her hair a few years back, but now she’s letting it grow out. Every time she lets it down, strands slip out from behind her ear. 

Luna takes a deep breath and stands up. She calls, “Gentiana.”

“Oracle,” Gentiana’s voice greets her, and the Messenger looks as serene as ever.

Luna is not serene right now. Her heart is shaking, her hands are fists. She is in turmoil and in a frenzy; unhappiness lines her brow and stress tugs at her dress. “Why?” She asks. “Gentiana, why did the Six make it so?”

Gentiana opens her eyes, and her face seems to sadden, and she looks at Luna with something akin to pity, and Luna has never hated her more. “It was not the will of the gods that it happened, merely the necessity of erasing the Accursed.” She says, and she may look sad, but her tone is just as mysterious as ever.

The Accursed. Luna has never heard of the Accursed. Why doesn’t she know about the Accursed? As Oracle, the Messenger has to tell her the will of the gods, and all that is ordained — she needs to know in order to do her duty.

“There are things you’re deliberately withholding from me,” Luna states. “Gentiana, why?”

Gentiana purses her lips. “It is the will of the king,” She answers. “And the gods chose to fulfill his request.”

“King Regis.” Luna says flatly, and it doesn’t make any sense at all. Why would he wish for Luna to not know?

“Yes.”

“‘In order for the King of Kings to ascend, he must enter a covenant with the gods,’” repeats Luna. “Why did you tell me this, then?”

“Because you must know your duty,” She responds. “Creating the pact will be your responsibility.”

A covenant, Luna thinks blankly. Slowly, she sits back down onto her sofa.

“And if… I refuse?” She can hear her own voice say.

“Then the world will fall into darkness forevermore.” Gentiana answers calmly, as if they aren’t talking about the end of the world.

Oh, Noct thinks, lying on his bed. And he slowly puts both arms over her face.

I’m in love, Luna thinks out of the blue, and she can’t believe this is happening. I’m going to enter a covenant with the gods. She lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

For now, just don’t think about anything, and rest.

When Luna wakes up the next morning, it’s almost as if the day before was a dream, and yet it was the most exciting day she’s had in years.

The fact of the matter is, for all that Luna is the Oracle and well respected around Eos, she’s merely a political prisoner of the empire — a bargaining chip, a figurehead really, for the emperor in Tenebrae. She can’t even leave the manor without her brother’s direct permission, and she’s never set foot outside the province. (Well, the last bit’s technically a lie — she lives in Lucis, after all.)

There is no one here who is truly her friend. The retainers have always been kind to her, and Luna tries to be courteous back, and she may love her brother but she stopped liking him a long time ago. Due to her position, she’s isolated herself socially from the rest of the village. Despite all the differences in their lives, Luna and Noct have one thing in common: loneliness.

But Noct has it better now, he has it good. He has Prompto and Ignis and Gladio and they’re going to be there for him, they’re going to support him and love him.

Sometimes Luna doesn’t want to be Luna. She’d much rather be Noct all the time, because Noct has struggles and worries and it’s scary being Noct, but Noct has family. Luna feels alone, and she’s stuck doing the same thing everyday, chained to her role. Each year the chains get a bit heavier, and squeeze her a little more, and Luna knows that one day they’ll—

Don’t think about it right now.

Luna’s spent all her hours trying to be Noct instead of Luna, because she wants to go to high school, she wants to go to the arcade with Prompto, she wants to eat Ignis’ cooking, she wants to train with Gladio, she wants to see her father again. Luna works, but she puts on the mask of the Oracle with a gentle smile and she spirits away to Insomnia where she can laugh and joke and cry with her friends.

Her friends— Gladio. Gladio.

There’s nothing special about Gladio. Well, it’s more like there’s nothing that sets him apart from Ignis and Prompto. They all care about Noct, and it’s not as if Gladio cares more or spends more time with him. She loves all of them, and she doesn’t think she loves him any more than she does her father, or anyone else. He’s just… _Gladio_ , a guy with a rough personality, broad shoulders, he’s just big everywhere, actually, if she really thinks about it, muscled arms— wait, it might also be muscled everything, he works out a lot.

Suddenly realizing that she’s thinking about his body, she blinks rapidly a few times and forces herself not to turn red. This is ridiculous, frankly.

But the point is, the only thing she can really say is that she likes him, and he’s attractive.

(Luna’s mental acknowledgement makes her blush, and she’s actually kind of upset. She’s trying to be reasonable and work out her feelings like anyone with sense would, and it’s rather annoying to get embarrassed.)

“I’m in love with a man that I’ve never met in my life.” Luna says aloud. “Oddly enough, that seems rather possible.” She laughs and flops on her bed. Honestly, the whole situation is rather funny.

But it’s sad if she thinks too hard. She’s in love with someone who she’s never met, and probably never will, because she’s— 

Don’t think about it.

That day Noct wakes up at noon, curled up in his bed. Ever so slowly, he rolls to the edge, gingerly places his feet on the ground, gets off the bed, and belatedly realizes that he has school today.

“Fuck it,” He says aloud, and staggers over to the living room, where he proceeds to turn on the television and switch the channel to the one that always plays those terrible fantasy dramas.

When Prompto comes over after school to see if he’s ok, is he sick, he finds Noct sitting on the couch in his pajamas, blankly staring at the screen as the scantily clad heroine is a sobbing mess on the ground of a stone dungeon, only just realizing that the villain was her lover all along.

“Man, this stuff is trash,” Prompto comments, and turns to look at Noct. “Have you been watching this all day?”

“Pretty much,” Noct says dryly. “Honestly, it’s so terrible I can’t look away.”

“Have you even eaten lunch?” Prompto asks, glancing at his pajamas.

“Haven’t even eaten breakfast,” Noct admits. “I’m actually kinda hungry.”

So he eats an afternoon snack with Prompto, which is just a bag of popcorn the two share. Prompto fills him in on what he missed at school, and gives him today’s notes.

“Why’d you skip anyway?” Prompto mumbles while he munches on some kernels.

Noct hums noncommittally. “Overslept, and then just didn’t feel like going, I guess.”

But Prompto is perceptive, and he says to Noct, “Is this related to Mr. Buff Dude needing to talk yesterday?”

“What?” It takes a second for Noct to realize that he’s talking about Gladio, and he laughs a little and responds, “Oh my god, Prompto, watch me call him that next time.”

“Don’t change the subject, man,” Prompto whines. “And I mean, go for it I guess. Just don’t tell him the name came from me. I don’t want to get beat up.”

Noct snorts. “Yeah, yeah.”

The conversation lulls for a bit, and Noct listens to the sound of Prompto munching and the sobbing of the heroine. He doesn’t really want to answer the question.

“Look,” Prompto pauses in his chewing, and says quietly, “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine to just say so. I’m sure there’s tons of stuff that you don’t tell me anyways.”

“Prompto, I—” Noct cuts off, and shakes his head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or something, I—”

“No, I get it.” Prompto interrupts. “I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I know that you’re royalty and all. I’m sure there’s just a lot of confidential stuff you’re not allowed to tell civilians like me.”

Noct frowns. It’s partly true, he supposes. Prompto doesn’t know about anything about Luna, the way Gladio and Ignis and his dad do, and even they don’t know everything. But there’s a lot of things that he doesn’t tell Prompto, or anyone really, and it’s not because of confidentiality. He’s not ready to say “I think I like Gladio” to anyone yet.

(Even more than that, he’s not ready to talk about the covenant.)

“Sorry,” is what he says instead, and focuses on the ground. “I don’t want you to think I’m lying to you. You’re my friend. I trust you.”

Prompto understands his shifty-eyed looks, and he’s awfully perceptive for someone so ditzy. “So you’re saying it’s _not_ something about classified information,” He comments, and smiles at Noct. “That’s ok too, you know. You’re allowed to have secrets.”

Noct looks at him in surprise, and Prompto laughs and teases him, “Ignis and Gladio would never say that to you, huh? I bet they’d be like,” And he makes his voice go into a falsetto, and it doesn’t sound much like Ignis or Gladio. “‘Oh Your Highness, you have to tell us what’s bothering you. You have to trust us to help you.’”

Then Prompto stops, and says in his normal voice, “Actually, that sounded like I was making fun of them. I didn’t mean it like _that._ It’s just… you tell me a lot about both of them, Noct. And honestly, they sound pretty great. They’re always there for you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Noct agrees, still not quite sure what Prompto’s trying to say.

“Look Noct,” Prompto says, and he looks awfully wise, “I’m not your royal advisor, and I’m not your Shield. My family hasn’t been in service to you for generations. Sure, I’d like to think you trust me and of course you’re my friend and I want you to tell me about what’s wrong, but if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. It really, really is.”

“I don’t have a duty to care for you, or protect you. You’re your own person, Noct, and if you don’t want me to know something, I can respect that.” He takes a breath, and says ever so carefully, “I… didn’t exactly have the best childhood, you know.”

“It wasn’t terrible or anything,” He tacks on hastily, when Noct opens his mouth in alarm. “My parents were just… always busy. They still are, really. I spent most of my time alone, and there were a lot of things I didn’t tell anyone, and things I felt I _couldn’t_ tell anyone.”

And really, both Noct and Luna can understand that, even though they’ve spent their whole lives surrounded by the masses— solitude is just something they’ve learned to live with. Secrets were inevitable.

“People say that bottling things up isn’t healthy,” Prompto says, snapping Noct out of his reverie. “And I mean, I guess it isn’t. Sometimes it eats at you. Sometimes it feels terrible. But… I think sometimes, there are just some things you have to keep to yourself.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Honestly Noct, I don’t even know what I’m telling you. I don’t know whether I’m saying everything right or wrong. Just… I have a lot of secrets too. So it’s ok if you don’t want to tell me, and I hope it’s ok if there’re things I don’t tell you.”

Prompto is an odd one. He’s lighthearted, makes jokes. It’s hard to reconcile the teenager sitting next to him to the quiet, painfully shy bespectacled boy that was once in elementary school with him. But Noct thinks he sees the latter now, the way Prompto’s lips are a tight line and he can’t seem to look Noct in the eye.

Prompto is an odd one. Gladio and Ignis are there for him, will always be there for him, and their world seems to revolve around Noct — always him first, then themselves. Prompto is there for him, but he’s also there for himself. He has his own insecurities, he has his own secrets. He doesn’t need Noct, he realizes. Prompto has a life outside of him.

Prompto is an odd one. Too many things don’t add up— why he avoided Noct for years then suddenly decided to be friends with him, why he still uses the camera Luna gave him, why he had a complete 180 in personality — and there are too many things Noct doesn’t know. He’s never known about Prompto’s parents, and he suspects Prompto doesn’t like to talk about them much.

Prompto is an odd one because he’s different, but it’s not _bad_ that he’s different. It’s not really _good_ either. It just is, and Noct can either take that fact and accept it, or deny it.

It’s a paradox, really. Ignis and Gladio tell him they’re never going to leave him by himself, and Prompto tells him he’ll let Noct be alone if he wants to — a contradiction of truths, but really, practically everything in life is that way.

So he looks at Prompto tells him plainly, “I don’t know what you’re going through, Prompto, but as long as you tell me it’s going to be fine, I won’t ask.”

His face shines and he says, “Yeah, Noct. I’m ok. I’m going to be fine. And, uh, sorry for getting so real all of sudden. I bet you just have a crush, huh?”

Noct actually turns red, and Prompto doubles over with laughter. “Oh my god, I was right? You gotta be kidding me! The prince of Lucis has a crush? Who is it? Umm, Alyssa? Nah, she doesn’t seem like your type. Brett from the other class? Our homeroom teacher????”

“Shut. Up.” Noct manages to get out. “And who the hell is Brett?”

“Ok, so he’s out.” Prompto says, and mimes crossing a name out on a list. “Who could it be, hmm…”

“I thought you weren’t going to pry,” Noct protests, and he’s almost whining.

“Sorry, sorry,” Prompto laughs, holding his arms up in surrender. “But you should totally see your face right now. This is like, the most flustered I’ve ever seen you.”

“Prompto, kindly get out of my house.”

Only he doesn’t, and when Ignis comes over in the evening, Prompto is still chatting animatedly with Noct on the couch.

“So you’re Ignis,” Prompto says brightly, but there’s an undercurrent of nervousness in his tone that Noct doubts anyone but him can detect. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Noct always shares his food with me, and it’s great!”

Ignis pushes up his glasses and Noct watches as he examines Prompto, noting all that he is, with his styled hair and messy school uniform and cheeky smile.

Then, without missing a beat, he says, “Of course. Prompto, is it? The prince speaks highly of you.”

“Quit talking like I’m not here,” says Noct, but without any real heat. “Can Prompto stay over for dinner?”

Prompto looks at him in surprise, but Ignis replies calmly, “I don’t see why not.”

“Can I really?” Prompto asks, uncharacteristically nervous. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

Noct clasp him on the back. “You aren’t. Besides, don’t you want some of Ignis’ cooking?”

So Ignis cooks them steak and they all eat together. He and Prompto somehow manage to get along spectacularly, despite their differing personalities. It’s a pleasant affair.

And the weeks drift past Noct, and his life once again slips into the mundane. This time, he’s the one who’s changed, who’s stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts and he’s not sure what to think.

As usual, Gladio invites him to go places regularly, and it’s always something new: eating at the new restaurant that opened up, going to a festival, fishing (alright, maybe that one isn’t new), movies, or just more training.

Noct can’t stop noticing things, like how Gladio talks while chewing or how his biceps flex or the way he always seems to have his attention on Noct. Sometimes Noct will stop mid-sentence to just _look_ at him.

“What?” Gladio will always ask after he stops.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” Noct will always respond and shake his head.

And this goes on for weeks, until Noct works up the courage to ask him, “Why are you always looking at me?”

Gladio turns around, his eyebrows raised. “I hadn’t realized you noticed,” He replies. “I’m your Shield, remember? It’s my job to look out for you. You never know when some asshole’s about to come over and ruin shit up.”

“Oh…” Noct can’t help but feel disappointed, even though that’s what makes sense.

“Alright,” Gladio walks up to him. “You’ve been acting weird for a while. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Noct says automatically. 

“Oi, didn’t you and Ignis just have a talk about communication?” Gladio asks him, exasperated. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Noct says. “I’m good. Really.”

Gladio looks at him skeptically. It’s clear he doesn’t buy it.

“OhwaitlooksatthetimesorryIgottogoIgnisiswaitingformebyeseeyoulater,” Noct says, turns tail and leaves.

“Iggy’s in a council meeting!” He hears Gladio shout from behind. Without turning around, Noct flips him the bird.

He actually tries to avoid him for the next few days, not bothering to attend any of their sparring sessions, but one day when Noct comes home Gladio’s sitting on his couch, reading a book.

“Hey,” He greets without looking up. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“Would you let me say no?” counters Noct, crossing his arms. He plops down on the sofa next to Gladio.

They sit there for a while, Noct staring blankly ahead of him and Gladio quietly flipping pages.

“I like you,” Noct blurts out, and shifts anxiously on the couch. He refuses to take his eyes off Gladio though.

“Ok,” Gladio says easily.

Noct gapes at him, and he smirks. “What, you think I didn’t notice?”

“Wh-you—” Noct sputters, and the larger man laughs.

“Man, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” He comments, and then suddenly grabs Noct in a headlock. “And you’re way too nervous.”

“Gladio, what the fuck?” Noct yelps, and vainly struggles to get out of Gladio’s grip to no avail.

And then all of a sudden Gladio’s fingers are all over him, and— 

“O-Oh my god,” Noct shrieks. “S-Stop! In the fucking name of the law!”

“Language, Noct,” Gladio says, his amusement clear in his voice. “Stop wriggling.”

“S-s-stop fucking t-t-tickling me you _asshole_ ,” Noct gasps out between wild giggles that are bubbling out of him. “I’ll f-f-fucking a-arrest you.”

Gladio laughs, and it’s not his usual laugh that he does when he finds something funny. It’s faster, longer, and it also sounds really, really dumb.

When he finally lets go, Noct lies on the couch for a few moments, breathing hard. “Goddamn it, Gladio, you’re _fired,_ ” He complains. “Also, you have the ugliest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

“But you still think I’m hot,” Gladio counters, crossing his arms smugly.

“And you think I’m cute,” Noct shoots back.

“I’m going to to readily agree with that.”

“Umm,” Noct stammers out. He’s not used to being complimented because of his looks. “... Thanks?”

“Noct,” Gladio says, and he’s still smiling but his tone is serious. “When you say you like me, what do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’” Noct asks, annoyed. “Doesn’t it just mean I like you?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Gladio asks, and Noct turns red at that, and Gladio seems to only grow more amused. “Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Noct ignores his last comment, and tries to answer his question honestly. “I mean… yeah, I guess,” He hedges uncomfortably. “But I mean, that’s not really why I like you. I just like spending time with you. I like being with other people too, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just _different_.”

He doesn’t have the right words to explain it, and he doubts he ever will, but it’s just a small feeling in his chest that always there, flickering ever so gently like a small flame. Whenever Gladio is around it spreads to his legs, his arms, his face. It’s not really intense, and it’s not hot like he expects it to be. The feeling is just there, and it makes his lips turn up and his eyes light with a brightness. It just _is_ , and Noct isn’t sure what exactly to say.

“And it’s different because you love me.” Gladio says, a question disguised as statement.

“I love a lot of people,” Noct says. “But I’m _in_ love with you.”

Gladio stares at him intently, as if he’s trying to sense any dishonesty in Noct’s words. Then he lets out a sigh, closing his eyes.

“C’mere,” He tells Noct, motioning him to come closer. Confused, Noct does so, and Gladio gently leads his face towards his by the chin.

The kiss is chaste, short and sweet, leaving Noct blinking in surprise. Gladio smirks.

“That’s my answer,” He tells him. “Also, I’m not gonna fuck the prince of Lucis while he’s still underage.”

Noct stares at Gladio incredulously. “I… I don’t even. This was not how I was expecting this to go.”

“What are you complaining about? You got the guy.”

“You just _kissed_ me.”

“And you liked it.”

“How are you taking this so calmly?” Noct asks, frustrated. “I mean it’s great and all, but I feel kind of cheated. It took a lot of effort to confess, you know. Could you at least try to be surprised?”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Gladio laughs. “And how do you expect me to be surprised? We literally go on a date, like, every week. Didn’t we go to the theater together last Saturday? And I take you fishing all the time.”

“Those were dates?”

Gladio looks at him fondly and takes his hand. “For someone so smart, you’re kinda dense.” He comments. “Did you actually buy that bullshit about me always looking at you because it’s my job? Don’t think that I’m gonna take it easy on you during training, though.”

And that’s how Noct starts dating Gladio, through a short and impromptu tickle fight and kissing session. It’s really weird, but Gladio is smiling and Noct is glad so he’s really not going to complain.

(When he tells the others, falteringly, because he’s not quite sure how to say “I have a boyfriend now,” Prompto laughs and claps him on the back, congratulating him.

Ignis, however, only looks confused. “I was under the impression you were already romantically engaged with him.” He says, his brow furrowing.

“Wait, what?”

“Well, he told me he was interested in you months ago, you appeared to like him back, and the two of you often go on dates. Frankly, all the facts pointed to the two of you in a relationship.”

“And… you’re ok with this?”

“At first, I had some concerns,” He admits. “It’s not exactly a professional relationship, per say. But I trust in Gladio to know what he’s doing, and your happiness is always important, Noct.”

Your happiness is always important, Noct.

 _Your happiness is always important, Noct,_ Luna chants in her head, and she slowly begins to plan and plan about her future and Noct and Gladio and everything inbetween.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like jesus all i wanted was for noct and gladio to date -- vegeta help me its over 9000 and i still don't understand how being in love works like how? do? people? realize they like someone? and confess?
> 
> but yall can see my romance aesthetic right its literally just them going on dates and drinking hot chocolate and just liking to be around each other. i love writing my version of gladio btw hes terrible


	11. Twenty-Two

When Luna is twenty-two years old, Noct has sex with Gladio on his eighteenth birthday. It’s pretty great, he supposes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayye lmao 20 words jokes on u i also havent finished the next chapter so be prepared to wait while i scream bc i have written 7k and im not even close to halfway thru
> 
> as a sort of apology, have this small and misleading line:  
> “Noct, I don’t believe in infidelity,” Gladio says slowly, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.


	12. Twenty-Four (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so luna is 24 was originally gonna just gonna be one chapter but then i started writing and writing and once it got past 21k i realized i will literally make myself cry if i have a 20 word chapter and then immediately afterwards the next chapter is like 30k
> 
> so i split it up and now im still sad guys this and the next chapter (which i still havent finished, save me) are complete trash and i have completely replaced quality with quantity

When Luna is twenty-four years old, Lucis has been defeated at Galahd. The news reaches Luna first, surprisingly (and she can’t seem to puzzle out why the empire would retreat at the last minute), but it is Noct who first hears of the treaty negotiations.

“You have to be kidding me,” He tells Ignis incredulously. “We’re giving all of Lucis up to the empire?”

“Not Insomnia,” Ignis corrects. “But yes, all other outlying lands will be given to Niflheim in exchange for maintaining the peace in the capital.”

“And my dad actually agreed to the terms?”

Ignis sighs and pushes up his glasses. “We have no choice,” He explains. “The Kingsglaive has been defeated. We are hopelessly outmatched.”

Noct frowns, but he understands why his father chose to agree to the signing. After the failure of the Glaive, pretty much all other options have been cut off. Insomnia has also been closed from the rest of the land for three decades due to the Wall, advancing and growing and leaving the rest of the kingdom in the dust. There’s a sort of inflated sort of superiority in the capital, to the point where some have started to consider other Lucians as immigrants. It’s a calculated risk in agreeing to the signing— but chances are, loyalty to the king in Insomnia outmatches attachments to lands outside the capital, so the inevitable backlash won’t be terrible.

But Ignis looks shifty and can’t seem to look him in the eye, and Noct narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me?” He asks.

Ignis frowns and looks uncomfortable. “There’s also an additional term to the agreement,” He says. “A symbol of the peace, if you will.”

“And?”

“It’s… an arranged marriage,” He says carefully. “The king has asked me to relay your response in this matter.”

At first, Noct is confused because who would they have his father marry? The only possible candidate Noct can think of would be the first secretary of Accordo, and somehow Noct can’t seem to imagine Secretary Claustra ever agreeing to this, given from what Luna’s seen of her political actions.

And then he realizes it’s stupid for the empire to have the king marry, because his dad is old and the arranged marriage is probably—

“Oh,” He breathes. It’s for himself. “But Gladio,” Comes rushing out of Noct’s mouth before he realizes it, and he hastily stops talking.

“I know,” Ignis says quietly, his eyes understanding and sympathetic. “Your father knows how much it means to you, so he’s leaving it up to you to decide.”

Noct takes a deep breath. Then another. Though his relationship with Gladio has been kept quiet from the press, his father and Clarus Amicitia were informed. They took the news with varying degrees of approval (Noct’s dad gave him a tired but genuinely pleased smile, while Gladio tells him Clarus chewed him out for a few days for trying to date the “fucking prince you’re supposed to protect, have you gone mad?”) but ultimately have accepted it.

His father respects their relationship. If it’s come to the point where he’s on the verge of forcing his son into an arranged marriage, then the circumstances must be dire.

“Does Gladio know?” Ignis nods.

Noct sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not like they’re giving me much of a choice,” He mutters, and then louder, “Who do they want me to marry?”

“Your childhood friend, I believe. The Oracle of Tenebrae, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret,” Ignis responds promptly, and Noct’s heart stops.

Luna?

“I... tell dad that I accept the marriage proposal,” Noct says distantly, and he’s trying to figure things out, and his brain is whirring, and he realizes that _he can make this work_.

Ignis is looking at him in surprise, probably because he accepted so easily. “We have more time,” He offers. “You can spend a little longer thinking about it.”

“We don’t have any other options,” Noct says, still trying to deduce how exactly this will play out. “Accepting the treaty is literally the only option we have. I have to say yes, Ignis.”

Ignis looks at him, pity in his gaze. “Very well, I will inform His Majesty.”

“No, wait,” Noct stands up. “Actually, I want to tell him myself.”

And so he meets his father alone in the throne room, and after all the guards have cleared out Noct tells him of his decision.

His father opens his mouth to say something in response, but Noct quickly cuts him off. “Dad,” He says, his tone urgent. “Why are you agreeing to this treaty?”

“We have no more options, Noctis,” His father replies, unknowingly echoing Noct’s words to Ignis only moments before.

“I know that,” Noct says, frustrated. “But it’s obviously a trap. They could have easily destroyed us at Galahd, but they pulled back. Niflheim is planning something, and I know it makes sense to agree to their terms, but it’s so blatantly clear that the treaty’s not what it seems.”

Noct’s father looks at him in surprise. “I had not realized you noticed,” He says slowly. “But yes, I do believe that the empire is attempting to lure us in.”

“Then why agree?”

To that, his father remains silent, a regretful look washing across his face. “You were not supposed to know about the empire’s retreat at Galahd,” He admits. “I’m afraid there are many things I do not tell you, Noctis, and I hope you do not hold it against me.

“You will meet Lady Lunafreya in Altissia, where the two of you will be wed,” He continues. “Take your companions with you.”

“I don’t understand,” Noct says desperately. “What are you hiding from me?” All of a sudden he’s reminded of what Gentiana told Luna all those years ago, when she asked about the Accursed. _It is the will of the king,_ she had said, and refused to answer Luna’s question.

“Noctis, please,” His father implores him, and he sounds so close to begging that Noct flinches. He’s _never_ heard his father sound so beaten. “Please, just follow my words.”

“At least let me stay in Insomnia with you during the signing,” Noct begs, but he only shakes his head.

“You shall be departing as soon as preparations for your trip are complete.”

And then the matter is closed, and Noct can do nothing but stare helplessly at his father’s old and resigned expression. 

When he goes in a daze back to his apartment, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto are all there.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gladio greets, his expression unreadable. “Heard you decided to say yes.”

Instantly, guilt washes through Noct, because Gladio doesn’t know about Luna, and he can’t imagine what it must be like to know that your boyfriend is going to get married.

“Gladio, I—” He tries to say, but Gladio holds his hand up.

“I get it,” He says. “We can talk about it later. For now, what did the king say?”

“I’m to go to Altissia,” Noct replies. “I— Luna’s going to be there, too. We’ll be gone before the signing.”

“We?” Ignis asks.

“Yeah, he wants you all to go with me,” Noct responds, and then turns to Prompto. “How much do you know?”

Prompto shrugs helplessly. “Umm, something about treaties and marriage?” He says. “Noct, am I coming too? I’m just a civilian.”

“You don’t have to,” Noct answers. “It’s your choice. I’d want you to go, but no one’s forcing you.” But even though Prompto isn’t obligated to join Noct, he’d very much prefer it. Prompto has only become a closer friend as years pass, and he wouldn’t want to leave him here in the capital (Not during the signing, when something is bound to happen. Niflheim should never be underestimated.).

“Well, count me in!” Prompto says cheerfully. “I wouldn’t miss your wedding for anything!” And then he seems to realize just who Noct’s marrying, and he stutters, “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”

Tactfully ignoring Prompto’s comments, Gladio tells him, “Well, then you’re gonna need some basic training in fighting. I guess my dad’ll be in charge of that. Well, someone in the Crownsguard, at least.”

“Oh, ok.” Prompto says easily, but then, “Uhh, I don’t know whether I could learn to fight that fast, though.”

“You’ll be fine,” Noct assures him. “You just need to know how to defend yourself. You have great aim too, maybe we could give you a gun.”

Ignis clears his throat lightly. “Prompto and I will go to the Citadel to start making preparations. Gladio, Noct, you two stay here and decide what to pack.”

“Huh? What? Ignis I don’t know what to—” Prompto starts to say, but at Ignis’ pointed stare, he looks at Gladio and Noct. “Oh. Oooooh. Umm, bye you two!”

So Ignis and Prompto quickly take their leave, and once the door closes Gladio and Noct turn towards each other.

“So,” Gladio says quietly. “You agreed.”

“I’m sorry,” Noct says automatically, and he really does mean it. “Please don’t think that it’s because I don’t want you to be my boyfriend or something, it’s nothing like that.”

“It’s fine.” Gladio seats himself, and motions for Noct to sit next to him. “I get it, Noct. You did the right thing. We need this treaty.”

But then Gladio notices the way Noct looks oddly unmoved by that statement, the way his eyes flicker like he’s thinking, how he frowns ever so slightly. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“I think,” Noct says, then pauses. “Well, first of all, the marriage with L-Luna.” He stumbles over the name, not used to the way it passes through his lips. “Gladio, I’m going to make this work. I can’t really explain how, but it’s going to happen.”

Gladio looks at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Noct says, frustrated that he can’t simply say _I am Luna, so it’s fine._ “Just… trust in me, ok? When we get to Altissia, I’ll talk to m— her, and we’ll figure something out.”

“Noct, I don’t believe in infidelity,” Gladio says slowly, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

Noct makes a noise of frustration and pinches the bridge of his nose. Does it really count as adultery if you’re the same person, he wants to say, but he can’t, not right now.

Can he really hide the fact that he’s Luna, though? Once they meet and they are together once again, can they really continue to pretend they are different? Memories of Luna and Noct together in Tenebrae are hazy, and he has no idea whether anyone was suspicious of them, but they were children and people cared less, so it hadn’t mattered.

Additionally, Noct was mostly stuck in a wheelchair. Now they won’t be able to hide the fact that they walk in time with each other, or they speak in the same rhythm.

Noct shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about this right now. “Look, let’s just deal with this in Altissia,” He says to Gladio. “Is that ok with you?”

“... Yeah,” Gladio says, still looking uncomfortable at the prospect of Noct cheating on his to-be wife. Noct can’t blame him, to be honest. If he were Gladio, he probably would’ve rejected the very notion of it. “What else were you thinking about?”

“The treaty. It’s a trap,” Noct says despairingly. “I even asked dad, and he basically just confirmed it. Niflheim’s planning something something big, and he wants me out of the city. I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s making all of us go to Altissia.”

“Hold on,” Gladio says, his eyes widening in alarm. “Are you sure? Ignis didn’t say anything about this.”

“Because Ignis doesn’t know,” Noct stresses. “When the Kingsglaive was defeated at Galahd, the empire suddenly retreated. Then they came to my dad directly to negotiate terms of peace. It’s so blatantly clear that they aren’t actually acting out of for mercy. Niflheim doesn’t work like that.”

“How do you know all this info if even Ignis—” Gladio cuts himself off. “The other you found out?”

“It’s not exactly confidential information outside the Crown City,” Noct admits.

Gladio mulls all of this over, his long hair spilling over onto Noct’s shoulder. “I think,” He says slowly. “That we’re just gonna have to leave it up to the king. We can’t disobey his orders, and your dad isn’t helpless, Noct. He definitely has a plan up his sleeve.”

“I know,” Noct sighs. “I just… wish I was here during the signing. It would make me feel a lot better.”

“Nothing is going to happen to the king,” Gladio says reassuringly. “They’d have to get through my old man first.”

Noct snorts and pokes his arm. “Wow, thanks.” He says dryly. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

“Hey,” Gladio says suddenly, nudging Noct. “Do you remember that one time last year when you crossdressed? You went legit, with a wig and everything.”

“You mean for that rally?” Noct grumbles. “I was _trying_ to discredit gender norms. I’m never doing it again, by the way. It was cool and all, and I guess I made my point, but all the people staring at me afterwards was seriously not worth it. And the press had a field day.”

“Oh man, Crownsguard was going wild that day, trying to do damage control. I think you gave my dad an aneurysm.” Gladio grins. “We should take that outfit with us to Altissia. It’d be a great disguise.”

“Oh my god,” Noct looks up in alarm. “Why would I need a disguise?”

“Or, maybe you could wear it to your wedding.” Gladio says thoughtfully. “You still keep in touch with Lady Lunafreya, right? I see her messenger dog, Umbra, sometimes. You should convince her to wear a matching suit.”

“Gladio, what.” Noct’s so embarrassed right now. “I swear, we’ve been dating for four years and I still don’t understand how your sense of humor works.”

“I just like making fun of you,” He answers easily.

“Well, you’re dumb,” Noct retorts back lamely, and without any spite. “You and your dumb mullet, big-ass tattoo and cool scar. And muscles.”

“Noct, you literally chose the tattoo design and officially okay-ed my hairstyle.” Gladio says flatly. “I do agree with the muscles and scar part, though.”

“You better,” Noct scoots over onto Gladio’s lap. “You’re the best.”

Noct doesn’t know what Gladio’s thinking right now about their relationship, whether he thinks they should stop now or wait until Altissia, but he allows Noct to lean into him and even puts his arms around his waist. And they kind of just sit there until Ignis and Prompto come back, silent and full of thoughts.

When Luna hears about the treaty, she is told that she will be wed to Noct. And then they tell her that she is to accompany the emperor to Insomnia on the day of the signing.

But that’s wrong, she thinks, because her father told Noct that she would be waiting in Accordo. Why is she going to Lucis?

The empire commissions her a wedding dress, and it’s beautiful. All the maids marvel over it, and when Luna tries it on she feels light, lighter than she has in a long time. Despite everything, her worries about the empire’s schemes, her weakened father, her and Gladio, she is actually looking forward to the wedding.

The covenant has been looming on her mind for years, inching closer and closer every time she takes a breath. Gentiana has already told her it’s inevitable. Luna has to accept it. But maybe… maybe before everything, she can meet them all, father, Ignis, Prompto and Gladio. At the very least, she will see them before that, right?

And the key to all of it is the marriage.

But first, she must get to Altissia. It is difficult, but she manages to get her old nanny to open the backdoor of the manor where her private driver is waiting to drive her to the train station, where she can ride the rails to Accordo.

Before she even steps foot outside, however, she is caught. Ravus takes her to room.

“What is the empire planning, brother?” She asks him.

“You’ve dreamt up the entire plot, Lunafreya,” Ravus tells her coldly, and leaves.

It frustrates her to no end that Ravus is always on the empire’s side. But what can she do? Maybe it won’t be so bad after all, to go to Insomnia, she thinks. After all, that way she can keep an eye on everything during the signing.

So Luna waits in her room for the day she departs for the Crown City, while Noct and the others prepare to leave for Altissia.

Almost as an afterthought, Noct informs Prompto about his situation, or as Gladio’s dubbed it, “the two bodies thing,” mainly because he thinks Prompto will get a kick out of it. His eyes go as wide as saucers, and he looks at Noct like he’s never met him before.

“Are you serious?” Prompto breathes. “That is so. Cool. You’re like, the main character of a really weird video game. How does it work? Like you’re just here, doing stuff, and then there’s another Noct, somewhere else, also doing stuff?”

“I guess?” Noct replies helplessly. “It’s not like there’s a carbon copy of me out there or something though, of course I look different. But other then that, I guess you could say I’m ‘doing stuff.’”

“Wait, so you said the Astrals gifted it to the Lucis bloodline?” Prompto asks, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

“Well, I think it’s supposed to be like a sort of last resort,” Noct responds slowly. “Like, if I die, at least I can just rule for a while longer in my other body, or at least until I’ve found a successor. That’s why I’m not allowed to tell anyone who I am, by the way. I don’t want myself getting assassinated.”

“That’s so _weird._ Are you even allowed to tell me all this?”

Noct shrugs. “Well, you’re basically honorary Crownsguard at this point,” He tells Prompto. “Besides, you’re accompanying royalty on a road trip. You kind of have to know why I’m going to inevitably fall asleep while eating. I don’t want you thinking I’m sick or anything— just tired from being two people at once.”

“Noct, you fall asleep while eating all the time, even when you aren’t taking a road trip.”

And then before long, it’s the day before the signing, and Noct and the others stand before the king. It’s an oddly formal and stiff affair, until Noct looks up into his father’s eyes, and tells him, “Be careful, alright? Watch yourself around our imperial guests.”

His father looks surprised, then oddly amused. “Very well, Noctis. Take care to remember your manners around Lunafreya.”

Noct chuckles, then in a breach of decorum he walks up the stairs leading to his father’s throne. “You take care too,” He says, and leans in close to hug him. “See you later, dad.”

Noct and his dad don’t have the closest relationship, but it’s a relationship with a sort of understanding that causes both of them to regard each other with a lot of affection. Noct tries his best to make his tiring father’s life easier, while he respects Noct’s personal decisions and choices.

After his mother died twelve years ago, Noct doesn’t take his dad for granted. Even when his dad his hiding things from him, that won’t change.

The king gives him a proud smile, his gray hair bright in the light filtering through the windows and the wrinkles on his face crinkling.

“Walk tall, my son.”

Noct does.

On the day before the signing, while Noct and the others climb into the Regalia and take their leave for ten long years, Luna walks onto an imperial airship for the first time, on her way to Insomnia. 

“Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt,” She greets, and she and Ravus bow.

Only the emperor, dressed in Niflheim’s traditional white colors, heeds her no mind, barely glancing in her direction, and Luna is left alone. Well, alone as she can be with 2 imperial soldiers guarding her.

Ravus goes off to do who knows what, so Luna seats herself on one of the chairs by the window and watches the landscape below with interest. Neither she nor Noct have ever been up so high.

Before long though, Luna hears footsteps approaching, and when she looks up it’s an unfamiliar face, a man in black (and it’s strange, she thinks, that he’s wearing Lucian colors) with purple-tinged hair and a dishonest-looking smile. She tries not to tense up, keeping her expression clear.

“Lady Lunafreya, was it?” And he bows low, even tips his hat, but somehow it just feels as if he’s making a mockery of her. “So wonderful to finally meet you, my dear. I am Ardyn Izunia, the chancellor of Niflheim.”

Luna may have never met him, but she recognizes the name. “Chancellor Izunia,” She greets, carefully hiding the tension in her voice. “The honor is mine.”

“Oh, my dear,” Ardyn puts his hat back on, and his oily smile doesn’t waver. “You are much too kind.”

When he finally leaves, Luna can’t help but feel immensely relieved, and she doesn’t know why other people don’t see it, how Ardyn Izunia reeks of darkness. It flows off him in waves. Perhaps it’s due to her being the Oracle that she can sense it, but it’s dark and malevolent and she’s not sure what kind of monster he is.

(Most certainly not a human, at least.)

Meanwhile, Noct is huffing and wheezing because it’s _hot_ and he’s _tired_ and he hates his dad’s stupid car, why did it have to break?

“Gladio, I order you to push this thing by yourself.” He wheezes out.

“Oh, I like that one,” Prompto gasps.

“All by myself?” Gladio grunts out, and despite being out of breath he somehow still manages to sound menacing. “I will literally murder the both of you.”

“Ignis, can you at least get out of the car? You’re only making this harder.”

And so they go, pushing and gasping all the way to Hammerhead. When they finally arrive, Prompto and Noct lie on the floor, and it takes Gladio kicking them with his boot for Noct to even try to stumble to his feet.

“Save me Iggy,” Prompto rasps. “I’m being cruelly and unusually punished.”

“You’re getting your clothes dirty,” Ignis informs him, but the amusement is clear in his voice. “Get off the ground, Prompto.”

They meet Cindy Aurum, a cheerful girl that Prompto falls for immediately, and her bad-tempered ‘paw-paw,’ Cid Sophiar. Noct recognizes the name from the stories his father used to tell him before bed.

“So yer the prince,” Cid scowls and insults Noct, and while his tone is antagonistic, his sharp eyes are calculating and analytic, as if he’s trying to judge Noct’s character.

As payment for the car, Cid makes them dispatch monsters. It’s fairly simple, and it lets Noct see Prompto in action for the first time. He knows that there’s no way they would have let him come along if he couldn’t hold his own, but Noct needs to see it with his own eyes that Prompto will be ok.

At some point, Cindy calls him and asks Noct and the others to search for a hunter named Dave, who apparently went missing a few days ago. When they find Dave, he asks them to kill a rogue beast for him, and it goes on and on, and by the time they’re back at Hammerhead, it’s already late afternoon.

“Here’s the girl, y’all!” Cindy says cheerfully, and gestures at the practically good as new Regalia. “Take better care of her next time, y’all hear me? Also, you wouldn’t mind deliverin’ some packages fer me, would you? It’s on the way to Galdin Quay, so it ought to be no trouble at all.”

“I mean, sure, I guess.”

But it’s when Noct and the others are fighting the bloodhorn that someone puts their hand on Luna’s shoulder and her concentration on the fight snaps, causing Noct to stumble for a second.

“Sister,” Ravus says. “We have arrived.”

And she steps out of the aircraft and onto the ground of Lucis for the first time. It’s so strange, she thinks, looking at all the foreign buildings around her, because she keeps expecting it to look new and different, but it’s the same city she departed from only a few hours ago.

They take her to the Citadel, and somewhere along the way the imperial guards and attendants around here are replaced with the familiar black coats of the Crownsguard. To her amusement, she is driven there in her own car, by the Glaive that she recognizes as the one who chauffeured Noct a few days ago.

He guides her through the familiar layout of the Citadel, and up the elevator to the throne room, and she enters it for the second time that day, to see her father, yet again.

The Glaive announces her as “Her royal highness, Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae,” and Luna has to quickly stifle a laugh. It’s likely that the people of Lucis still refer to her as ‘princess’ as a sign of respect, after all, instead of the way the empire does, with a mocking edge to all their words.

Her father rises from his throne when he sees her walk forward, towards him.

“It’s been far too long, Lunafreya.” He greets, and he smiles almost wistfully, his eyes full of emotion.

And it’s hard, and Luna hesitates before speaking, because she doesn’t know _what_ to say. When her father looks at her, he sees the woman he left behind in a destroyed country, in the flames and the screaming. She can see the guilt in the way he stands, as if a large weight is holding him down.

But to her, he’s always been her dad, the one who said he would always protect her and always has, the one who risked everything to spirit Noct away from Tenebrae, the one who saved Noct from the daemon, the one who let Noct live by himself in the city, the one who let Noct date Gladio, the one who is always there for Noct.

(And she is Noct.)

She can’t say what she really means, not all the things she could thank him for, not without being too much like Noct. So instead, she puts on the smile of the Oracle. Her posture is perfect, her hands clasped in front of her, and tries to put his guilt and worries at rest as best she can.

“King Regis,” And she makes her voice gentle, mimicking the way her mother used to speak. “It is good to see you as well.”

“I had sent one of my Glaive to escort you to Altissia, where Noctis awaits,” Her father says. “But I fear something went awry. It is not too late— go now, Lunafreya, leave the city. It is not safe here.”

And even though Luna wants to go to Altissia— she wants so terribly, hasn’t she proved that— she shakes her head, and and she can’t say what she wants, not what she really means, but Luna tells her father, “There are things here that I must do first.”

Because the king can order Noct out of the city, away to Accordo, but he can’t do so to her, Lunafreya of Tenebrae, so she will stay here and make sure her father will live and her city will survive.

Of course, her father doesn’t understand— what could Luna possibly need in Insomnia? But he sees the determined look on her brow and hears resolve in her voice, and he knows there’s no way she will leave. 

By the time Noct gets to Galdin Quay, it’s getting dark fast and the celebrations that welcome the Emperor Aldercapt to Lucis have begun.

“We don’t have enough funds to stay at the hotel, unfortunately, but we can rent the caravan,” Ignis offers. “There’s also the option at staying at the nearby haven.”

“Well, Gladio did being all that camping equipment along,” Prompto points out. “It’d be a shame to not use it before we get on the boat.”

So they set up camp, getting out the tent, chairs, and portable stove. When they first open up the Regalia’s trunk, all the equipment comes spilling out.

“Woah, how did we even get all this stuff in here?” Prompto asks, sounding rather disbelieving.

“A lot of effort,” Gladio answers dryly. “Gotta hand it to Cindy. She managed to put her packages in with all this stuff still in here? That takes talent.”

“Hey wait, where’s my stuff?” Prompto yelps and starts pulling the camping gear out. “My clothes! My extra camera! Did I forget to put it in?”

“Relax, I got it.” Noct says, patting Prompto on the back. “See?” He holds his arm out, and Prompto’s duffel bag materializes into existence in a burst of blue magic. “Don’t worry, I have everybody’s luggage.”

“Wait, you can do that?” Prompto demands, sounding insulted that he never knew. “I thought you could only store weapons!”

“Well technically, yeah, but ‘weapon’ can apply to a lot of things.”

“Wait, then why did we even put all this camping stuff in the trunk? You could’ve just stored it in your magical space compartments!”

“That’s because Noct can do something else with the camping gear,” Ignis interjects. “Let’s gather everything and take it to the haven.”

So they do, and once Gladio is done pitching the tent and all the chairs have been set up, Noct closes his eyes and concentrates hard. He’s never actually done this before, but his dad’s explained the steps clearly enough so that it shouldn’t be too difficult.

And sure enough, when his eyes open, the tent and chairs glow a soft blue, matching the color of the runes below, before fading back into their normal hue.

“I’m pretty sure we’re set.”

“Wait, what.” Prompto says blankly. “What just happened?”

“These runes do more than just repel daemons,” Ignis explains, gesturing at the glowing scripture below them. “They’re powered by the crystal, and those who can use the crystal’s magic can also store items at havens.”

“Basically, now that we’ve set this stuff up, we can just leave it here and it’ll show up at whatever haven we stop at next and we won’t have to pack and unpack all the time,” Noct elaborates. “I don’t want to store all this stuff in my personal ‘storage;’ it’s hard to keep track of everything after a while.”

“Why would it even matter, though?” Prompto asks. “I mean, we’re leaving on the ferry tomorrow. It’s not like we’re even going to any more havens.”

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Ignis says. “Also, just because we aren’t now doesn’t mean we’ll never rest at a haven for the rest of our lives.”

“Explain the weapons and healing items to him while you’re at it,” Gladio’s voice can be heard while he’s rummaging through their supplies.

“Got it. So you know how you summoned that gun during battles?”

“Yeah, I thought all Crownsguard could do that. We get like, linked to the crystal’s magic through the king, right?”

“Yeah. I guess they told you something after all.” Noct says. “Unlike the rest of the guard though, I’ve linked all of you directly to my own magic, so we can coordinate things during fights better. I can control what weapon you materialize, basically, so just tell me when you want to equip something else. Also, healing items. Like, look at those potions we used earlier today; they’re literally just energy drinks.”

“What?” Noct can’t help but laugh. Prompto looks devastated, like his whole life was a lie. “You mean I’ve just been using Gatorade to heal myself?!”

“If it makes you feel better, they’re imbued with Noct’s magic, so they have more healing properties than you would think,” Ignis offers. “But it makes it rather convenient to buy, since energy drinks can be bought at practically any outpost.”

“Oh my god,” Prompto says faintly. “I bet you’re gonna tell me now that the store in the Regalia is run by magic too.”

“Actually, yeah. I _really_ don’t get how that one works though, and I never bothered to ask, so I can’t really explain it.”

Prompto groans. “Ok, I’m ready to go to sleep now. My mind has been blown way too many times. The whole thing just sounds like the explanation of some wild video game mechanics.”

At the party, Luna watches as Emperor Aldercapt and her father exchange pleasantries, the tension thick in the air. Despite that, she’s more wary of Chancellor Izunia, standing at the side with a glass of wine by himself. He appears to be enjoying it.

As the fireworks light up the night sky, Luna scans the politicians gathered around her, and eventually she catches sight of the Glaive, the same one as before. He’s standing at attention, obviously at guard duty.

If Luna thinks about it, it’s rather odd for a Glaive to be here. After Galahd, they ought to have been released from duties, at least for a bit. Maybe he’s here as punishment?

Curiosity spurs her on, and she finds herself walking towards him. “We were never properly introduced,” Luna says to him. “I am Lunafreya, of Tenebrae.”

The Glaive looks up to her, and it might just be her imagination, but it almost looks like he’s laughing at her. “I’m well aware, Princess.” He says to her. “I’m Nyx, Nyx Ulric. Of Galahd.”

Nyx Ulric. The name sounds familiar to her, and then Luna remembers that she’s heard the name from Kingsglaive reports. Ulric, the one who disobeyed orders to retreat in order to save a fellow Glaive. He’s talented, but can’t be trusted to follow a higher-up.

“Tell me, Nyx Ulric,” Luna asks him. “Who was it that m— that the king sent to escort me out of Tenebrae?”

Nyx is silent, watching her for a moment. When he finally does speak, he only says, “Her name was Crowe.”

Oh. So she’s dead. Luna swallows whatever she had planned on saying, and tells Nyx as sincerely as she can, “I see. My deepest condolences; I know loss is difficult.”

She’s ready to turn and walk away, guilty that she’s caused him pain, but then Nyx says, “Here. She was going to give it to you.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket, and when she opens it, it’s a pretty silver hairpin.

“Thank you,” Luna says, and she gingerly takes it from him. “I’ll keep it with me.”

“Take care of it,” Nyx tells her, and it almost feels as if he’s saying something else— it’s almost as if he’s warning her of something— but Luna doesn’t know what he’s means, and he doesn’t elaborate.

It’s at that moment that Gladio claps Noct on the back, who’s staring blankly into the campfire, on the back. “Hey, Princess,” He says, causing Noct to jerk up in surprise. It’s going to get rather disorienting soon, with Luna being addressed with that title in Lucis and Gladio calling him it as well. “What do you say about some early morning training tomorrow? We can go fishing afterwards.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Noct asks automatically.

“Well, is it working?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Noct yawns. “Come to bed with me?”

“If you guys start making out in the tent, I reserve the right to take pictures,” Prompto’s muffled voice floats through the tent flaps. “I’ll make Ignis choose the best ones to save.”

“Relax, we’ll keep everything PG.” Gladio laughs and helps Noct up. “Off to bed, then.”

So Noct drifts off, nestled in between the sleeping bodies of the others, but Luna is still wide awake, pacing in the room that they’ve provided her. The evening gathering is over, and she’s tired and wants to rest, but at the same time she doesn’t want tomorrow to come.

She finds herself walking to the elevator and allows it to carry her to the roof, where the event took place. There’s no one here now, (And it’s a bit odd, really, because even though it’s deserted, shouldn’t there still be guards stationed here?) and Luna steps over to the edge and grips the railings.

Insomnia looks the same as ever, a sprawling metropolitan with shimmering lights that stretch far and wide. The night is dark, but the translucent Wall flashes ever so slightly, a constant presence.

Her father agreed to the peace treaty for this, this city and its splendor and riches. Luna can’t forget that.

Then suddenly, without warning, a distorted voice speaks behind her.

“When you look below, Oracle,” The voice says, “What do you see?”

It’s been a long time since she’s heard that voice, but there’s no way she could ever forget it.

“General Glauca,” She whispers, and turns around to face him. The man who killed her mother stands before once again.

“Do you see hope?” Glauca questions her. “Do you see something worth protecting? You, the slave of the Gods and what they have ordained?”

“Why are you here?” asks Luna, and her voice shakes. He did not accompany the emperor into Insomnia. How did he get past the Wall?

“The more important question is, why are you here?” Glauca steps closer to her. Luna can’t step back. “It is not Niflheim that needs you. You are here for me.”

“What?”

An imperial airship appears, and Glauca gestures for her to get on board. “You first, Oracle.”

Luna steps forward. Puts one foot in front of the other. Then another. Then another.

They take her out of Insomnia, and the ship smoothly and silently moves through the confines of the Wall. It joins ranks with its 2 dozen or so brethren, and Luna is speechless. She doesn’t understand how, she doesn’t understand why. It’s impossible for them to—

“Chancellor Izunia has devised a way to slip through the king’s protections. Unfortunately, with the Wall still intact, we can move only one ship through at a time,” Glauca tells her, his tone almost conversational. “Certainly not fast enough to launch a full scale invasion.”

Luna clenches her fists, then forces herself to calm down. “What is the empire planning?” She asks him.

“Come tomorrow, you will know.”

He leaves her in a locked room guarded by two MTs, and Luna has no choice to comply and play into their hands, because there is no way she can defeat General Glauca in a fight (Even as Noct, she doubts she can— but as Luna, physically untrained in combat, there is no shadow of a doubt that she would be destroyed.), but she has one ace up her sleeve that no one knows about.

Noct.

Unfortunately, she can’t control sleeping patterns, so she settles down on the bed, which is hard and stiff compared to the one in her lodgings. Luna closes her eyes, clutches the hairpin Nyx had given her, and waits for Noct to wake in the morning.

Then the next thing he knows, Gladio is shaking him awake, and Noct gasps and scrambles onto his feet.

“... That’s like, the fastest I’ve ever seen you wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Gladio comments quietly, careful not to wake the others.

“Where’s my phone?” Noct demands, and scrambles around in search of it. His heart is pounding, there’s no time to waste. “There’s something I need to tell dad.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Right now,” Noct confirms, and spots his phone buried in a pile of his clothes. “It’s a trap— I know what they’re planning, they need to know—”

“Hold on,” Gladio cuts him off, and he jerks Noct around to face him. “First off, calm down. You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack. Breathe with me, alright?”

Noct takes a deep breath. “There. Happy?”

“Not really,” Gladio says dryly. “Let’s take this outside.”

They walk out of the tent, crouching to fit through the opening. “I don’t know where all of this came from, considering that you’ve just been sleeping the whole time,” Gladio says to him. “But listen to me. They know. The king knows it’s a trap. We’ve been over this, remember? Whatever set you off, it was probably just a dream.”

“It’s not a dream!” Noct protests, and he resists the urge to try and pull some of his hair out. “They don’t know about—”

He stops, because it’s in that moment that Noct fully processes Gladio’s words, and he thinks,

It’s a trap.

What does it all mean? Noct bites his lip. He was so sure that— all those imperial drop ships— 

_Unfortunately, with the Wall still intact, we can only move one ship through at a time. Certainly not fast enough to launch a full-scale invasion._

Are they planning to destroy the Wall? The only way to do that is incapacitate his father, or take the ring from him. It’s obvious that they must also want the Crystal as well, then. But all of that is easier said than done. His father won’t go down that easily. Then all those ships— they would have to go through the Wall one at a time, meaning they would be easy targets to shoot down one by one. It wouldn’t work.

Also, why would they take Luna? With all the proceedings going on today, it’s likely that her disappearance will go unnoticed, since she wasn’t going to be present at the actual signing anyway.

_It is not Niflheim that needs you. You are here for me._

What does that even mean? Why would Glauca need her? What use would he have of Luna, someone whose value lies only in her ability to heal? None of this makes sense. Niflheim doesn’t need her, Glauca needs her. Glauca _is_ Niflheim, though. He’s the general of their forces, and he kidnapped Luna because— because—

_It is not too late— go now, Lunafreya, leave the city. It is not safe here._

His father— his father, the king, who holds an untold amount of affection for Luna. Luna can be used as a bargaining piece. Niflheim knew this, that was most likely why they brought her to begin with, yes?

So, say that she was kidnapped to coerce father to do something— demand that they hand over the Crystal and the ring? Noct realizes that, with dawning horror, that they could, and he has no idea whether his father would agree or not. But no, something isn’t adding up. If they wanted to do that, they could have easily done so in the past twelve years— threaten to kill Luna in exchange for the surrender of Lucis.

So no, that’s not their plan. Back to square one. They put her on a fleet of imperial ships that are unable to attack the capital, at least until the king is taken care of and the ring taken. His father, noting his affection for Luna, could possibly notice that she was missing, and what would he do? That one is easy to answer, he would—

“It’s a trap,” Noct breathes.

Because if his father notices that Luna is gone, he will send out his men to rescue her. If they find the imperial fleet beforehand as well, he will most likely send as many as he can to destroy them before they reach the Crown City.

The entire thing was a diversion. The real threat is most likely inside the city, with the chancellor and emperor. Of course, all of this is conjecture, and General Glauca could have very well been lying, but the chances of all of this being true are too big to ignore. By calling his dad right now and telling him Luna has been taken, Noct will be playing right into their hands.

So he can’t call his dad, not about this. Not even if he tells him that it’s a ploy to leave the city unprotected, because he doesn’t know whether his dad will choose Luna over Lucis the way he chose Noct over Insomnia. (Noct doesn’t how or why yet, but he can’t shake off the feeling that all of this is for him.) That day, when he left Luna in Tenebrae, he was doing his duty, but Noct’s not sure if his father will be willing to leave her behind again. The guilt is too obvious in his face.

What else can he say? _Niflheim is planning to attack the city, they are ready to strike inside the Wall_ is really all he knows at this point, and that really isn’t helpful information. He was there when he saw his father positioning all the Crownsguard around the city. He’s been spreading out his forces throughout the city already, heavily guarding landmark areas. They are as prepared as they can be to face an assault in the city, and Noct telling him this won’t change anything.

At this point, all he really can hope is that his dad doesn’t realize Luna is gone.

“You calmed down yet?” Gladio’s voice snaps Noct out of his thoughts.

“...Yeah,” Noct says. He’s grateful to Gladio. Even though he helped Noct out that hadn’t been intended, Gladio was still the reason why he’s figured all of this out. “Thanks. For always being here for me.”

Gladio watches him for a moment, trying to figure out whether he’s lying. Whatever he sees in Noct’s expression makes him sigh. “Alright, let’s skip the training for today.”

“What? Really?” Noct’s surprised; Gladio almost never calls off training sessions.

“Frankly speaking, you look stressed as hell.” Gladio says flatly. “Normally I would just make you exercise, but today we have options. Why don’t we just go straight to fishing?”

And so they do, but even so, Noct can’t quite get his thoughts off his father and Insomnia. Gladio, of course, notices as well.

“So, ready to set off to Altissia?” He asks Noct, his voice light and conversational.

“What’re you trying to say?” Noct asks as he carefully reels in the fish.

Gladio sighs, and lowers himself onto the wooden planks of the dock. It’s so uncharacteristic of him, and Noct glances at him in surprise. “Listen,” He says. “You’re not the only one who’s worried. You’re stressed, I’m stressed. As a group, we’ve managed to keep up the good cheer, but no one’s really happy about the situation, although Prompto does a good job pretending he does.”

He gestures at Noct to sit down next to him. “Why don’t we just… talk?” Gladio says. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

Wordlessly, Noct lets his fishing rod dematerialize and plops down next to Gladio. “I think we both ignored it,” The larger man says slowly, sounding the words out carefully. “We both knew that we might not be able to stay together one day; that our responsibilities and duties might force us apart. The throne always needs an heir, and we just both disregarded that fact for a bit.”

“Don’t say that,” Noct snaps back immediately, horrified. “What kind of relationship would it even be if we got together knowing we wouldn’t be able to stay that way? Of course we wouldn’t think about it.”

“Then when are we going to start?” Gladio counters calmly. “You told me to wait until Altissia to sort things out. And that’s what we’re going to do, because this isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about the future of Lucis, and it’s about Lady Lunafreya. She should also get a say in what happens next. But just because we aren’t ready to do something about it now doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it.”

And Gladio doesn’t know this, but Noct does: the wedding won’t happen. Now that it’s definite the empire has something planned for today, the treaty will be called off, the engagement cancelled. It will never happen. Noct and the others are all going to Altissia for nothing, and no one knows this yet.

“Gladio, I love you,” Noct says instead, and he pours as much sincerity as he can into those words. “Don’t forget that, alright? Like, even if I do have to get married and maybe we have to break up, I don’t know. There’s a lot of things going on, but I want that to be the one thing that never changes. Maybe one day I won’t even like you romantically anymore. But I’ll always love you, ok?”

Gladio, to his credit, doesn’t even look flustered by that, but he does give Noct a warm smile. “Yeah, I know. And you’re fucking adorable, have I ever told you that?” And he pulls Noct in for a heartfelt hug, and says quietly, “I love you too, you know.”

Noct closes his eyes and lets himself just enjoy the moment while it lasts, only all of a sudden there’s the sound of a camera clicking, and Prompto lets out a whoop behind them. “Aww, you guys are so cute!”

“Stop fucking ruining the moment, you asshole!” Noct roars, and Gladio snorts. “Gladio, let me go right now. I need to beat up his ass.”

Only Prompto just takes more pictures as Noct struggles to get out of Gladio’s grip, and when he’s finally reached him, Prompto’s showing Ignis all the shots he took, and he’s nodding appreciatively at all the pictures.

“Good morning, Noct,” Ignis says innocently, a smug air around him. “I had Prompto go fetch the two of you. Breakfast has been prepared.”

“He bribed me with an extra pancake for pictures,” Prompto adds helpfully.

So they eat breakfast, and before Noct knows it they’re walking back to the port, ready to board the next ferry to Altissia. Noct is hesitant to leave Lucis now, though— with the marriage nullification a guarantee, he doesn’t want to leave the country before the attack on Insomnia.

But when they get there, a familiar figure stands in their way. Noct takes a sharp breath. Ignis notices, and immediately the group tenses.

“Now, now, no need to be so suspicious,” Chancellor Izunia chides, and his eyes narrow. “You came here for the ships. I am here to tell you that there will be none.”

“Who are you?” Gladio asks, a dangerous tone leaking into his voice, and Noct realizes that other than himself, no one knows who Ardyn Izunia is.

“Just a man of no consequence,” And he bows like he did to Luna, with the same mocking edge. When he straightens, he throws a coin at Noct, which Gladio deftly catches. “Consider that your allowance, if you will.”

“Why are you here?” Noct asks guardedly. He can’t give away that he knows who is in front him— it’s obvious that he’s supposed to be just as in the dark as his friends. But it looks like what Glauca said really was true; the chancellor of Niflheim can slip through the Wall at will. The real question is why he’s here at Galdin Quay, meeting with the prince, instead of at the Crown City when the signing is only hours away.

But Ardyn only laughs, and he looks at Noct like they’re sharing a private joke. “Don’t you already know, _your Highness_? This ceasefire is getting us nowhere, after all.” And with that, he takes his leave, still chuckling to himself.

“What was that?” Prompto mutters, sounding creeped out. “What a weirdo.”

Ignis turns to Noct, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You recognized him,” He says. “And he recognized you.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah,” Noct says, but doesn’t say anything else. “What’s the coin he gave us?”

Gladio hands it over to him. “Looks like a souvenir of some sort,” He comments. “Care to enlighten us, princess?”

“It’s an Oracle Ascension coin,” Noct notes, turning the coin over in his palm. “They made these to celebrate the new Oracle a few years ago.”

“Wait, so who was he?” Prompto pipes up, curious.

Noct hesitates for a brief moment. “I… He’s the chancellor of Niflheim.” He says finally.

“What? Here?” Ignis exclaims, sounding shocked. “On the day of the treaty? Moreover, the king gave him permission to exit the capital?”

Because after all, they don’t know that Ardyn Izunia can slip through the Wall. His father would have never let the chancellor out of Insomnia.

They check the harbor to make sure that what they’ve been told is really true— and as it turns out, the empire has blocked all ships from leaving the Altissian docks, effectively stranding them on Lucis. Then they’re blackmailed into finding some ore for a reporter named Dino Ghiranze, who threatens to sell them out to the press.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” Ignis sighs. “We haven’t exactly been subtle in hiding that you’re the prince, Noct. The Regalia was a dead giveaway.”

By now it’s high noon, and the time of the signing is almost upon them. While Ignis drives Noct and the others to the location of the ore, Luna paces in her room. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and what frustrates her most is that she isn’t able to do anything to help.

There is a clock in her room, and she watches anxiously as it ticks closer and closer to the designated time. Her hands shake, she fumbles with her dress. She thinks, please don’t die. Don’t let the empire succeed. 

It’s literal seconds before the signing, and then all of sudden, there’s a sound of a scuffle outside, and she peaks through the peephole. To her horror, the two MTs guarding the door have fallen, and standing over them is a Kingsglaive. 

“No,” Luna whispers. “No, no, no.” This can’t be happening. How did they know to find her? 

The Glaive finds the keys to her door and unlocks it. Before she can say anything, _get out of here, it’s a trap, get back to the capital_ , the footsteps of another Glaive running towards them can be heard, and the voice of Nyx Ulric cries out, “Pelna!”

The newly dubbed Pelna turns to him and says, “One Princess of Tenebrae, safe and—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The tentacles of an Ultros suddenly reach out from around the corner and grab him, and he’s strangled to death.

Nyx grabs Luna by the arm as she stares in horrified fascination at the dead man in front of her. “Come on,” He says gruffly. “We’ve got no time to lose.”

“How did you find me?” Luna demands, as she runs with him. “I was bait, you shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have come, yes I know. I’m starting to see that, Princess,” Nyx replies testily. “Too late. The entire Glaive was deployed. After we found your coordinates and saw all the airships on our radar, of course we came.”

“How did you locate me?”

“The hairpin is a tracking device,” He replies easily, and Luna bites back a curse. She should have known.

The Kingsglaive are the elite fighting force of Lucis. While the Crownsguard can materialize their weapons with the help of the king, the Kingsglaive quite literally borrow the king's power, enabling them to teleport and use magic. By luring them out here, Insomnia has been robbed of its greatest weapon.

They run into more Glaives, and to Luna’s never ending horror, some try to attack her. Nyx deftly disarms them and takes care of them.

“The Kingsglaive have been compromised?!” Luna gasps.

“Apparently,” Nyx says, his voice hard, then in a lower tone, he mutters to himself, “Dammit, Luche…”

Luche. Luna knows that name— Luche Lazarus. In terms of rank, he’s right below the captain of the Glaive, Titus Drautos. Has he betrayed the kingdom?

The Ultros is still alive, somewhere inside the ship, and Luna can see its tentacles coming after them. A loud explosion rocks the ship, and then all of a sudden everything is burning, and she is flung out onto the edge.

Nyx clasps her hand. “Climb,” He hisses. She does.

It’s a struggle, but eventually they reach the controls of the failing airship. The course is still set to Insomnia, and Luna can see the city in the distance. Smoke is pouring from the Citadel. It’s quite clear that the attack on the city has already begun.

“The Wall,” Luna breathes. “It’s gone.”

And the Wall is indeed gone, meaning all these airships filled with magitek are going to be able to drop directly into the city. But that means— that means—

As they get closer, Luna sees it. The Niflheim airship next to the Citadel rises, and with it, getting dragged away is—

“That’s the Crystal,” Nyx says in alarm, and curses.

The Crystal. The reason behind the prosperity of Insomnia. The only one left on Eos. Luna feels like she’s about to throw up.

“Please, steer us to the Citadel,” She begs Nyx, and he looks at her like she’s crazy. “It is my duty—”

“That’s a war zone, princess,” He says. “Do you want to _die?_ And don’t you dare spout any bullshit about ‘duty.’ If you go there, there won’t be any more duty for you to fulfill.”

Luna screams in frustration. “Then what do you want me to say?” She demands. “Of course it’s bullshit. What would make you take me there?”

“Do you have a death wish? I’m _not_ taking you there, period. This airship probably won’t even last the trip.”

“I’m not afraid of dying!” Luna roars, incensed, and Nyx actually looks shocked. “And before you ask— yes, of course that was a lie, who do you think I am? But I’d rather die than live knowing that he could have still been alive, and that I didn’t go to help him!”

“Who?”

And Luna’s so _scared_ and so _angry_ and common sense has long since flown out the window, so she says, “My dad, who fucking else? Now _please_ , just take me to the Citadel. I’ll jump if I have to.”

Nyx connects the dots together. “Wait, your dad’s the king?”

Luna makes another indiscernible sound. “Stop wasting time and just take me there. Or, better yet, just get out of the pilot’s seat.”

“What, they teach you how to fly airships at the Royal Academy?” Nyx asks, his words dripping with sarcasm. But he gets out of the seat, allowing Luna to take control.

“It can’t be that much different from driving a car,” Luna says through gritted teeth. “I only failed my driving test twice. I’ll be fine.”

“Your accent is disappearing,” Nyx notes, as the ship rocks up and down as Luna tries to get a handle on the controls. “I didn’t know there were cars in Tenebrae.”

“There aren’t,” Luna says. “Now stop distracting me.”

Through no small amount of luck, she manages to steer the ship towards the Citadel, but she honestly has no idea how to land this thing, and Nyx doesn’t look like he’s in a helping mood (honestly, she wasn’t expecting him to be such a smartass) so she just gets as close to it as she can, and jumps out, hoping to the Six almighty that she’ll survive.

All of a sudden, someone grabs her in midair, and the momentum is enough for her to tumble onto the balcony on one of the upper floors of the Citadel.

“I was not expecting you to do that,” Nyx says, getting up and brushing his pants. “Next time, give me a little warning.”

“Thanks.” Luna gets up as well, and starts running towards the elevators inside. She needs to get to the throne room. “I thought you weren’t going to help me?”

“Do you know the Kingsglaive motto?” Nyx asks her as they get into the elevator. Everything around them is a mess— the furniture toppled, MTs patrolling the hallways. “‘For hearth, and home.’ If you’re doing this for family, then I’ll help you out.”

Luna opens her mouth to say something in response, but then, the elevator doors swing open and they both freeze.

The bodies of dead Lucian council members litter the floor. The king is standing, clearly weakened, clutching the ring. General Glauca is ready to strike. Her brother (Ravus what is he doing here was he a part of this as well _of course_ she should’ve known) is lying on the ground, his arm is a charred, molten mess and he’s clearly in pain. Her eyes frantically scan the fallen. At the edge of the room— Clarus Amicitia— Gladio’s dad he’s not moving he’s—

She runs to her father while Nyx throws his daggers at Glauca and keeps him distracted. She supports him while they hobble as fast as they can to the elevator. The moment they are inside Nyx warps to the elevator and her father, with his failing strength, summons the magic of the ring to temporarily incapacitate Glauca.

Ravus, she thinks distantly, as the doors close. Ravus is still in there— he will be alright, he will be alright. He is of the empire, they will take care of him. Thinking of his burning arm, she turns to her father. “My brother,” She speaks in the silence in the elevator. “Did he…?”

Her father nods tiredly, blood dripping down his face. “He tried on the ring.”

The Ring of Lucii. Luna feels her heart skip a beat. Ravus tried to put on the ring? Why? He knows, he must have known— the ring only grants power to those of the Lucis bloodline. It’s a miracle he hadn’t died.

Carefully, she puts her hands on the wound of her father’s arm. A golden glow encircles the area, and the wounds begin to heal. “Are you injured?” Luna asks Nyx. “If so, I can heal it.”

“Thank you, Lunafreya,” Her father says to her. “But I fear healing my wounds will do little. My strength has been failing for years.” And he turns to Nyx, who still hasn’t said a word. “Please, Nyx Ulric. I ask you not as a king to his glaive, but as a man to another. See Lunafreya to Altissia safely.” With that, he holds out the ring to Luna. “Take this to Noctis.”

“You are not going to die here,” Luna says forcefully. “F— King Regis, you will not die here.”

“I have something to ask you,” Nyx says finally. “Why did you agree to this treaty?”

Her father deflates. “It was… it was the only way I could guarantee Noctis’ safety,” He says. “The only way I could safely see him out the capital.”

“Is that the way of our king?” Nyx demands. “Throw away the citizens of Lucis all for the sake of the his own son?”

And with a start, Luna realizes that Nyx is not from the Crown City. He is from Galahd, the very outskirts of the kingdom, and he has been fighting the empire his whole life. How cheated he must feel right now, to know that all his efforts were in vain, that his home was traded away all for some prince he’s never met before.

“With Noctis holds the future,” Her father says quietly. “He is the Chosen. I…” He takes a breath. “I deeply regret what I did, Nyx Ulric. But I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He presses the ring into Luna’s hand. “Please, follow my request.”

The elevator door opens, and the king leads them through a hidden passageway that Luna recognizes— it leads to the car storage. Well aware that by now Glauca must have recovered, Nyx runs past them, urges them onward, while Luna is running close behind, hand clasping her father’s, away from the magitek troops and Glauca, away from Lucis, away from Ravus and—

Her father lets go of her hand.

Luna freezes, stops, and with a strength of will she doesn’t know she has, she turns around to look at King Regis, who is standing there with a bittersweet smile on his face. With a wave of his hand, a barrier forms between her and him.

“No!” Luna screams, but it is too late. She can’t get past it. Nyx tugs at her arm, but she ignores it.

“Go,” Her father tells her. “Live your life, Lunafreya, in however much time you have left. And in that time, know that locked doors will no longer seal your fate. I… I failed you, twelve years ago. I won’t again. And I know… your mother would have wished the same.”

_In however much time you have left_ , a small part of her brain thinks, and Luna realizes that he really did know of the covenant. “No,” She sobs. “I won’t leave you behind.”

But her father ignores her words, and says to Nyx, “Go now. Our future lies with you, Nyx Ulric.”

Nyx gives a minute nod and wrenches her away. Luna bites him.

And it’s in that moment General Glauca comes raining down, and his father turns to face him. (The winner of the fight is obvious. His father is unarmed, unable to form his Armiger and bereft of the ring.)

“The King of Lucis, who hoarded tranquility within his Wall. ” Glauca intones. “Where is the peace now?”

Desperately, Luna breaks free of Nyx’s grip and claws at the barrier. 

_When Luna is four years old, she stares up at him with wide eyes, wishing desperately to say “I love you” back to him, because she does, she really does, but Noctis’ mouth refuses to cooperate. Instead, the babble of a baby washes out, and her father merely smiles at her._

_When Luna is twelve years old, Luna thinks, I love you, but once again her father cannot hear the words._

“I love you,” Luna blurts out, and she rids herself of her Tenebrae accent and all her manners and poise. “Dad, I love you.”

Her father whirls around, and it’s in that moment Luna knows that he knows, he knows she’s Noct and they are one and the same, but instead of shock, or surprise or happiness or even a bitter sorrow, Glauca stabs her father through the chest and Luna can only see horror in his eyes.

And then it is over, and Luna allows herself to be dragged away by Nyx. He practically carries her to the car, places her in the passenger seat, and Luna only remembers how to breathe once they’re shooting off onto the highway, on their way out of Insomnia.

Just… breathe for now, Luna thinks, as she wipes the tears and snot off her face. Know that you’re alive, and that you have to stay alive. Everything else can come later. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about.

The airships are immediately upon them, and even with the help of the Guard, Nyx and Luna can’t completely shake them off their tail, so they end up ditching the car after a series of crashes, leaving the smoking vehicle to burn. Luna can both see and hear the daemons the empire has released into the city, and she hopes that the civilians have been evacuated already.

Eventually, Nyx and Luna find themselves in an abandoned office building, and they crouch beneath the windows to stop and take a breath.

After a long silence, Nyx says, “So, the empire wanted you to marry your brother?”

Luna actually chokes on nothing. “What? No,” She protests, and then she realizes that Nyx must think she and Noct are siblings. “It’s… very complicated,” She finally says, trying to be as vague yet still truthful as she can. “Complicated and very, very confidential. I’m not related by blood, you see.” She fingers the ring that fa— King Regis gave her.

“What is the deal with the ring anyways?” Nyx asks her. “Is it some sort of superpowered ancient magic?”

“Basically,” Luna agrees. “It holds the key to controlling the Crystal as well. But only those of the Caelum bloodline can be its wearer.”

“So that guy earlier, your brother,” Nyx says. “He tried it on?”

“Ravus, he…” Luna bites her lip. “I don’t know what he was thinking,” She says finally, and more sadly, “I never know what he’s thinking anymore.”

Nyx, sensing that it’s a sensitive subject, switches topics. “So the empire, they’re definitely going to be after us for the ring, right?”

“Yes. We need to get out of the city as soon as possible—” She’s interrupted by the shattering of windows as hundreds of daemons swarm in.

“Fuck!” Nyx exclaims, and they can do nothing but run, because the Kingsglaive depend on the king for magic, and the king is—

“How do they keep finding us?” Luna yells, and then immediately answers her own question. The hairpin. The stupid, stupid hairpin she’s foolishly kept with her the whole time, even though Nyx _told_ her a Glaive operative was going to give it to her, and she knew that the Kingsglaive have been compromised. “Fuck!” She yells, echoing Nyx, and throws it out the window.

They manage to lose them, but Nyx breaks his leg. Luna heals it for him, and he chuckles weakly. “Guess I owe you one, Princess.”

“Think of it as payment for getting me into the Citadel.” Luna responds. 

It’s at that moment that a tinny voice speaks out of Nyx’s earpiece, and Luna can’t quite catch the words, but Nyx listens with rapt attention and says, “Your timing’s impeccable, captain.”

The Captain? Captain Drautos? With that, Luna can feel her heart lighten just an inch, because Drautos is a capable general in war, and maybe with his assistance they can flee Insomnia safely.

“He’s says we’ll meet at section D. Come on.”

They’re running to the area, all the streets deserted and silent except for the screams of the daemons in the night, and Nyx speaks up. “You remind me of my little sister,” He says to Luna. “She was a spitfire, like you.”

“Thank you,” Luna says dryly. “What happened to her?”

“The empire.” Nyx says bleakly. “I couldn’t save her then. I was powerless, like I am now.”

The conversation reaches a swift end when they reach the plaza, and Nyx calls out, “Ulric, reporting in! I have the Princess and the ring!”

At first, there’s nothing, and then the sound of something flying through the air cuts through and Nyx gasps, crumples to the ground like he’s in pain. “Go! Run!” He hisses at her.

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Luna protests, and Nyx pushes her away forcefully. “I can heal you!”

“I can’t believe you’re stilling moving with that hollow-point inside of you, Ulric. Crowe died almost instantly, you know.” A voice behind them comments, and Luche Lazarus steps out from the shadows. “Try to heal him, Princess, and I’ll make him die so quickly there won’t be anyone left to save. Now, be a good girl and hand over the ring.”

“Shut up,” Luna spits out, but she’s frozen with indecision. She can’t— won’t let Nyx die here. But she can’t hand over the ring. What does she do?

The sound of footsteps come, and she looks up to see Captain Drautos, and both she and Nyx exclaim in relief. But then, something’s wrong, Luna thinks, because Drautos looks for too calm, and he—

“Nyx!” A voice yells, and a car comes skidding into the plaza, plowing straight into Drautos. Only Drautos isn’t crushed, and the vehicle tumbles to its side with a force that shouldn’t be humanly possible.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Nyx croaks out, and Luche laughs, because where Drautos was once standing is General Glauca in his full body armor.

(The same Drautos that Noct once trained with, the one who has always been loyal to f— to the king, he was a traitor all along? Why? Why why it doesn’t make any sense he killed her pare— killed the Queen of Tenebrae and now he’s killed the King of Lucis but _why_ )

“It is over, Princess,” Glauca says to her. “The daemons have been unleashed. Insomnia has fallen. Give us the ring.”

Shaking, Luna takes out the ring.

They think she has two options. She can either peacefully hand it over, and the odds of them being killed afterwards are just as much as them being spared. Or, she can try to run. She will never be able to outrun them, Nyx will die, and they will kill her and get the ring.

Luna holds the ring out.

But they don’t know there’s another choice. It is risky. Even with it, she can’t fight. Her body isn’t trained. And Luna is a backup for Noct, his replacement if he dies. He isn’t dead yet though, and she can’t help but think of the mess of an arm her brother was clutching. She does not know whether the ring will acknowledge her. But she knows she is Noct, and Noct is the rightful wearer of the Ring of Lucii.

Luna puts the ring on, and— 

Luna tries to put the ring on, and immediately Nyx snatches it out of her grip, and Luche and Glauca prepare to strike, and Nyx smiles at her grimly, _because he thinks that Luna is not of the Lucis bloodline and she is trying to sacrifice herself_ , and he says, “You’re not the hero around here, princess,” And he slips the ring onto his finger.

(It won’t be until hours later, when she meets up with Gentiana, and she asks, hesitantly, voice cracking, if she knows what happened to Nyx Ulric of the Glaive.

“He made a deal with the Lucii, the Lucian kings of old,” Gentiana will say. “He was granted the power of kings until daybreak, in exchange for a life: his own.”

“Oh,” Luna will say in return, and she will clutch the ring in her hands.)

But for now, in a split second, the king’s magic explodes, Luche and Glauca are thrown back, and Nyx stands, his body crackling with blue magic. The man that was driving the van runs over to them and Nyx introduces him as Libertus Ostium, then returns the ring to her. “He’ll take you out of the capital while I deal with these two,” He tells Luna, gesturing at Luche and Glauca.

And Luna has only known Nyx for a precious few hours, but she’s seen that he’s a man with a dead sister that still has a lot to live for, that he loves his home and there’s still things he must want to do, so she asks him, “I will see you again, won’t I?”

“Of course,” He lies, and that is the last thing he ever says to her.


	13. Twenty-Four (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: just fixing some errors, don't mind me
> 
> the chapter starts with crying, has crying in the middle, and ends with crying. unsurprisingly, there will be crying in the next chapter and the one after that
> 
> i utilize horizontal lines (somewhat generously applied) for the first time and im honestly concerned whether this chapter is even coherent? pacing was thrown out the window and im terribly unconfident. if i have the willpower (i dont) i might edit it later

Noct opens his eyes.

The room is dark, and it takes him a while to remember where he is. Ignis and Prompto are sleeping in the adjacent bed, and Gladio has his arm on Noct’s stomach. He sits up. Ever so slowly, he moves to the edge, gingerly places his feet on the ground, gets off the bed.

Ignis, the lightest sleeper, is the one who wakes up to the sound of Noct stumbling around. “Noct?” He asks quietly, careful not to wake any of the others up. “Are you alright?”

And Noct can only turn his head blankly at Ignis, who quickly grabs his glasses and gets up when he realizes that something is indeed wrong. “Noct?”

Noct looks at him with wide, desperate eyes, because what he’s just seen happened so _quickly,_ and he hasn’t really realized what happened yet— because it could be summed up in a few sentences, my father died and they stole the crystal and Insomnia is gone— but shouldn’t it mean so much more than that? It could never, should never be written into words because how can he describe what it all means, there’s no way he could ever tell Ignis that the Kingsglaive defected, that he left his brother lying on the cold floor, leading his father into death, then leading a man that tried to save him to his demise (what a fool he was, he should have just let Luna put on the ring), that Clarus is dead and they are all dead, how many of the civilians survived, he doesn’t know.

Luna has to be strong right now, she can’t think about it. She mustn't show weakness to the enemy, so instead, Noct starts to cry. Ignis watches in horror as he starts to sniffle and wipe his tears in vain. “Noct, it’s alright. Everything will be fine.” Without hesitation, albeit somewhat awkwardly, he puts his arms around Noct and pats his back.

No, it’s not alright, Noct thinks, and he says this as he’s gasping for air. It’s not alright because Niflheim _won_ , and they’ve stolen everything.

“Mmm… Iggy?” Prompto mumbles sleepily from the bed. “Whass… goin’ on?”

Ignis ignores him, and continues to keep his focus on Noct. “Did something happen?” Ignis asks soothingly, and the sentiment is appreciated, but Noct can still feel the dirt and the grime on Luna’s clothing and he can’t get away from it, from the smell of fire in the air and the crying refugees as they walk out as a group to the wastelands of Leide and beyond.

By now, even Gladio has stirred, and he sits up, grumbling. “Ignis, what the hell…”

“The papers,” Noct gasps out. “Check the papers.”

So Ignis goes out to grab the morning newspapers, and Prompto and Gladio move Noct back onto the bed.

“Did something happen yesterday?” Prompto asks frantically. “You’ve been out of it ever since we did that job for Dino.”

Noct forces himself to calm down, control his breathing, and Ignis comes in, holding the paper, looking shaken. He turns toward Noct, holds it out. “How did you know?”

 _Insomnia Falls_ , the front headlines read. Noct doesn’t bother looking at the rest. Gladio snatches the paper from Ignis and his face turns pale, then turns and hands it over to Prompto.

There is a silence in the hotel room, broken only by Noct struggling to keep his breathing even. There’s no point in crying and moping about it, he thinks to himself harshly. Get up. Think about what to do next.

So Noct takes out his phone in the silence, and he dials the marshal.

* * *

“You know,” Gladio speaks up afterwards. “You didn’t ask the Marshal about my dad.” The statement isn’t heavy, it’s not said with a weight, but it hits Noct like a blow to the chest, leaving him heaving and gasping for air.

“I…” Noct starts to say, but Gladio waves him off.

“I get it.” Gladio says. “I’m… I’m just glad Iris is safe.” It’s so obviously a lie, and Noct looks at Gladio desperately, wanting to tell him that it’s ok if you tell other people how you feel, it’s ok because I will help you like you always help me, but Gladio has always been more stubborn than Noct and he’s not sure if he can reach him now.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Ignis speaks up, and Prompto quietens and turns to look at Noct. “That’s why you knew before anyone else. You were at Insomnia.”

“... Yeah.” There’s no way to hide that.

There’s a million questions anyone could ask to that— who is Noct? Was he part of the Niflheim contingent, or did he deliberately break into the city so he could watch the signing? Or has he always been a Crown City citizen? But Ignis merely asks, “Are you safe right now?”

“As safe as I can be,” Noct answers truthfully. “I’m not about to keel over and die, so that’s something.”

“So they took the Crystal,” Prompto says. “But what about the ring?”

“No idea,” Gladio answers. “I guess the marshal’s about to tell us.”

They meet Cor at the Tomb of the Wise. He stands there, his usual grim look even more sober than usual, his arms crossed. Noct’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sword at his hip. It’s one of his signature katanas, Kotetsu.

By all means, it shouldn’t be there.

Cor tells him— he needs to collect the Royal Arms of his ancestors, scattered over the land at tombs. “Start with the Sword of the Wise,” He offers, gesturing at the crypt beside him.

When it is done, Noct stands alone with Cor.

Cor has always been a strange one. He’s famous, dubbed ‘Cor the Immortal’ for as long as anyone knows, for his prowess in combat. And sure, he’s definitely strong, stronger than anyone Noct has ever known. But the marshal has always had something about him that makes Noct pause, look at him a bit oddly. He always looks more tired than anything else, always grim and frowning. Cor is middle-aged, but sometimes he acts as if he was there when the world was shaped into existence, and he’s weary of all conflicts but he fights nevertheless. Noct can’t really explain it.

“Drautos betrayed us,” Noct states. “He was General Glauca all along, and he killed f— the king. Did you know?”

Cor winces. “I didn’t. That day, I didn’t even set foot near the Citadel. The king and Clarus planned it so that all Crownsguard would be guarding the civilians. They knew what was coming, and they didn’t tell anyone.”

Suddenly, a flash of anger strikes through Noct. “You should’ve been there,” He tells Cor bitterly. “You would’ve been able to defeat Glauca.”

Cor flinches, ever so slightly. “I’m sorry,” He offers, defeated. “I have no excuses.”

“Sorry,” Noct replies automatically. “It’s not your fault.” He wraps his arms around himself in a weak attempt at comfort, and Noct knows he’s just angry because unlike Cor, he was there and he had the potential to do _something_ but he _didn’t_ , and that will never be able to leave his mind.

And that’s the heart of the problem, isn’t it? He was there. How can he be angry at anyone but himself? He knew everything that was going to happen, he had predicted the outcomes beforehand, and it hadn’t even mattered. It hadn’t mattered, now it will never matter again.

Focus, he reminds himself. Where does he need to go, and what does she need to do next? Brushing away her thoughts, Luna squints up at the overcast sky. There are million things she can think right now, that she can use to push herself down. None of them are necessary.

“The time of the covenant is come,” Gentiana tells her, and Pryna and Umbra run in circles around them. “The Chosen must take a pact with the gods.”

She doesn’t even try to register the words. Don’t think about it, she says to herself harshly. There is a time and place for everything, and until she can truly rest, she won’t think about anything.

But still, tired, dirty, staring blankly ahead, Luna tips her head. She had hoped… she had wondered, maybe. Maybe she would have been able to travel with _them._

The Regalia has an empty seat in the back.

But Noct needs to build up his Armiger, busy trying to reach the Axe of the Conqueror, and Luna needs to go right now, before Niflheim finds her, takes her back to the empire, and takes the ring. There are two Astrals she must call on in Lucis, and before she is located she must call to both the Archaean and the Fulgarian.

Squatting down, she smiles fondly at Umbra, who licks her hand. Perhaps she can send the ring to Noct directly? No, she decides, because although Pryna and Umbra can reach anyone, they can also be killed or captured, so it is too risky.

By keeping the ring with her, it acts as two defense mechanisms. One, if she is indeed captured, she can use the ring as a last resort, emphasis on last. Luna’s never been more scared of a circular strip of metal in her life. Two, it’s a promise. As Oracle, she can’t rest until she delivers it to Noct. The wedding has been cancelled, her hopes and that beautiful Westwood dress placed to the side. But if she can deliver it to Noct in person, that means she can still meet with them all. Luna is very tired of being alone.

So, with Gentiana trailing behind, she follows the cheerless, wretched crowd onward to Duscae. It is a long and arduous journey. They are carried in small vans, and once night comes they stop at a haven. Many are injured, some sick. Luna tries her best to help them. When she does, and the golden glow comes pouring out, the people look at her with surprise and wonderment, because reports say she and Noct are dead. “Lady Lunafreya, you’re alive! You’re alive!”

Yes, I am alive, she tells them with a smile she doesn’t quite mean. I am alive.

I am not alive, she wants to tell them.

By the time they reach Lestallum in the Cleigne region, Luna is exhausted. Her body aches, and she can barely feel her left arm anymore. Mass healing is always tiring, and she hasn’t gotten a proper rest since she left Tenebrae. But she has to leave immediately to the Disc of Cauthess, for the Archaean awaits. By car, she would have reached the Meteor in minutes, but alas, despite the friendly atmosphere of Lestallum, there are not many who are willing to give rides. Luna checks the chocobo rental as well, but it appears that due to some monster roaming the Duscae region, chocobos are not available either. So, she walks on foot. It’s not a very pleasant experience.

At the Disc of Cauthess, once she finally gets there, it is clear that the empire has set up a blockade. She’s disappointed, but not surprised. After all, Luna knows that Niflheim has a vested interest in the gods. Shiva’s demise by the hands of the empire only a few months before had rocked all of Eos. What’s shocking about it, though, is that despite there being a gate, it is bereft of guards and it’s simply wide open, allowing anyone to go through.

Stumbling beyond the gates, Luna follows the path down and down until the flames lick at her heels and the air is so hot if feels like she’s suffocating. “Gentiana, my trident,” She murmurs.

Gentiana hands it to her, and Luna grips it tightly in her right hand, and she starts to sing. It’s ancient, ancient magic, the kind that her mother had whispered to her in her ear as a child and she had sung to her as she slept, and the light comes pouring out her trident. The air is saturated with heat and magic.

The rocks shift and tumble, and what Luna thought was simply a smooth, steep cliff turns and—

 _To what have you called me, Oracle?_ Titan rumbles, and his voice rebounds from boulder to boulder, making Luna wince. The Meteor is atop him, yet the Archaean stands tall. He’s massive, his red eye staring at her intently.

Luna swallows hard, and makes her request with a strained voice. “O Archaean,” She calls, “Hear my plea. Forge a covenant with the King of Kings.” The Archaean is not known as the most temperamental of the Astrals (that title will forever go to Ifrit the Betrayer, followed shortly by the Hydraean), but he is most certainly not a pushover. She honestly doesn’t know whether he will agree.

 _The Chosen will be tested_ , Titan tells her after a lengthy pause, _and only then will the pact be formed._

Luna is about to sigh in relief, and then she processes what he’s saying and immediately begins to panic. A test? What kind of test?

Breathe, she thinks, and she proceeds to thank the Archaean, who twists and turns until she can no longer see his face and his body is indistinguishable from the rocks around it.

Pain immediately hits her, and Luna gasps and falls to her feet. Gentiana crouches beside her and rests her hand on Luna’s back. Pryna barks. Everything is spinning, she feels nauseous, and she’s an inch away from fainting. She’s choking on nothing, she can’t move anything, and Noct gives out a little wheeze and bites his lip until it starts to bleed.

It recedes after a few minutes — it felt like an eternity, but Noct checks his phone and practically no time has passed at all— and she struggles back onto her feet. Things will only get worse, Luna reminds herself. Don’t complain now; it will only get worse.

The price of the covenant is death.

* * *

 Noct and the others help Cor and Monica break through the imperial blockade created between Leide and Duscae, and they’re off to Lestallum, where Iris is.

“It’s the wetlands!” Prompto exclaims excitedly, snapping photos of practically everything. “It’s so weird, how this and the desert are right next to each other.”

“Ignis, actually, can we take a detour?” Noct speaks up. “I’d like to go to the chocobo ranch before we head to Lestallum.” He’s not sure what exactly is going on with the chocobos, but it would greatly improve Luna’s ability to travel if they become available again.

Confused, Ignis acquiesces nonetheless. Prompto cheers and Gladio hums, still suspiciously quiet in the aftermath of the attack.

“Guys, I just realized,” Prompto says, after Deadeye is taken care of. “This is totally like King’s Knight. There’s four of us, just like in the game!”

“Oh, shut up.”

After that, there’s no more detours and they arrive at Lestallum the next day. Iris greets them at the Leville, the hotel she, Talcott, and Jared have been staying at for the moment.

“Gladdy!” She exclaims as she runs towards him, and Gladio grins and spins her around.

It’s late, and they spend the night chatting and catching up, and Iris quietly tells them everything she saw while she was still in the capital.

“It was terrible,” She says. “Most of the city is still intact, but still. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Insomnia without thinking of that night again.”

Prompto switches subjects quickly, sensing that it’s a sore subject for all them. “Have you met with the marshal?” He asks Iris.

The mention of Cor makes Noct jerk up, and he remembers something he’d noticed when they met in the Tomb of the Wise. “He still had his sword.” He says aloud. “The ability to materialize weapons came from da— the king, and he’s d-dead. How does Cor still have Kotetsu? He should’ve lost his weapon the moment he lost his magic.”

Ignis frowns thoughtfully. “Both Dustin and Monica had no weapons on them,” He notes. “That is indeed an interesting point. I wonder how the marshal managed to find a loophole.”

It’s later that night, when Noct thinks, is it really a loophole? Cor has somehow managed to bypass the consequences that were dealt to the Crownsguard. It’s simply not possible, because he has no magic left to materialize weapons.

Niflheim managed to break the Wall. To a certain extent, they could manipulate the Crystal’s magic.

Stop it.

Traitor, his brain offers. In cahoots with the empire. Titus Drautos was General Glauca, and he murdered your parents. Cor Leonis could easily be the same.

Stop it, Noct thinks, and he drifts off to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Noct wakes up and the sun is high in the sky and the room is empty. Outside, Iris greets him brightly. “The others went off to explore the town,” She tells him. “They didn’t want to wake you up. But we can just go by ourselves! We haven’t had a day together like this since forever!”

So Noct and Iris set out, and she leads him through the narrow alleys to the bustling marketplace, and they ooh and aah over some of the wares the merchants have set up for a bit.

“Noct, have I ever told you that I really, really, love moogles?” Iris asks him gravely as she examines a moogle plushie. “I really, really like them. I think I want to marry one.”

Noct puts both hands on her shoulders. “I understand,” He tells her seriously. “If Gladio doesn’t approve, I’ll give you my blessing as your brother-in-law. It’s almost the same thing.”

Iris giggles. “The wedding has to be moogle-themed. We need a moogle cake, moogle napkins, moogle attire— all the guests have to be wearing a moogle suit. Except you, Noct, you can wear a cactuar costume.”

“Nice. Can I do the pose too?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Iris exclaims, and then, “Ok, but all joking aside, when are you and Gladdy gonna get married?”

“Iris, I was literally _engaged_ two days ago.” Noct says, and his hands are suddenly clammy again.

“Yeah, but you’re not now, are you?” Iris responds sensibly, but then she notices the way Noct doesn’t have quite the same cheer as he usually does, and she narrows her eyes. “What did Gladdy do this time?”

“Not everything I’m worried about is related to Gladio,” Noct protests, but Iris only rolls her eyes. “I know my brother, Noct,” She says. “He’s dumb. He’ll _always_ make you worried. So, what’s wrong?”

Noct shifts, uncomfortably aware that he’s in a bustling marketplace. “Let’s get out of the way first,” He suggests, so Iris leads him to the borders of the town, next to the EXINERIS power plant.

“Isn’t it cool?” She asks him. “They take energy from the Meteor and convert it into electricity. And only _women_ work in the plant. They do all the labor in Lestallum. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Huh.” Noct tilts his head. “I wonder how that happened.”

“What, do you not approve?” At that, Iris sticks her tongue out at him. “Women power for the win, Noct! You just don’t get it cause you’re a guy.”

“Hey, rude.” Noct wants to tell her that he understands perfectly what she means, and just because a guy doesn’t mean he’s _always_ a guy— but yeah, that doesn’t make sense at all out of context. But he knows what Iris is talking about; as Noct, he really doesn’t have any right to determine how women should live their lives. “It’s not bad, I suppose, just different. I was just curious as to how it ended up being like that.”

“Dunno,” Iris chirps, and leans on the railing. In a softer voice, she asks, “So, what’s the deal with Gladdy?”

Noct hesitates. “I’m not sure what to say,” He admits. “There’s nothing actually _wrong_ , and I meant what I said about it not really being about Gladio. I guess it’s just more about myself? With all the stuff that’s been happening, I haven’t really thought about things much. Wait no, scratch that. I’ve been making myself not think about it. I guess it’s my way of functioning after, umm, you know.”

“After the king?” Iris states bluntly. “I’d tell you that was bad, but honestly, I’m doing the same thing.”

“What?”

“Noct, do you really think I’m this happy?” Iris looks a bit grim, and she smooths down her skirt. “It’s easier to pretend to be fine right now than think about it. The next few months are going to be hard, especially for you guys. The empire is actively chasing after you all. You have to worry about Lady Lunafreya, the ring, the future of Lucis, and the Crystal. I’d be ignoring it too.”

“I wish I was angry,” Noct admits. “I wish I was pissed off, because then I could at least focus on beating the empire. But my thoughts are all over the place, and sometimes I don’t know what to do. Ignis already worries enough about me, I don’t want to burden Prompto, and Gladio… he’s not telling me anything, but I know he’s having the same problem as me.”

Iris is silent for a bit, and then she says, “Gladdy and I are kinda similar like that. We try to take our minds off things by doing something productive and pretending we have a handle on everything. I saw him yesterday, and I guess you’re right. He’s acting just a bit off. Can’t blame him, though.”

“At least it’s somewhat productive. I just feel stuck. There’s a million things I could be doing, and I’m trying, but I always just end up trying not to think about thinking,” Noct wrings his hands together. “I envy you and Gladio. You two have been through so much, and you seem to be doing ok.”

“Don’t say that,” Iris replies sharply, and Noct turns towards her in surprise. “Noct, you’ve been through just as much. Both of our dads are _dead_ , and it was your kingdom that just fell to the empire. Don’t envy me. Don’t envy Gladio. Just… you don’t get it, do you? I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Insomnia.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t do it,” Iris admits. “Maybe it’ll change later, but I can’t even stand to consider the Crown City right now. I’m not ok, Noct. My dad died there, how could anyone expect me to go back? I don’t want to back there. I like Lestallum— maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live here for a while; get a job in the factory after I turn 18. I wouldn’t even mind if Jared and Talcott went back to Insomnia without me after we get it back. I can take care of myself.”

Noct can’t even begin to fathom what Iris is thinking. “But… Insomnia is your home.”

“I know. But I just can’t, ok?” And to Noct’s horror, Iris sniffs. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m not ready to go back. It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever be ready to back. If I went back to my house, and dad’s not even there— he won’t ever be there during dinner anymore, I’ll never have another fight with him again, I won’t ever be able to hear his voice— how could I go back?

“Don’t envy me, Noct, because I really don’t think I’m very enviable right now. I think you’re going to be ok though, eventually. I hope I can be, too.” Iris gives him a watery smile. “I’m sure Gladdy would appreciate it if you talked to him. And you said you’re scared of worrying the others right? I can get that, but don’t _ever_ let anyone tell you how to grieve. Not Ignis, not Prompto, not me, not even Gladdy. Take as much time as you need. Do it in whatever way you need. And I think we’re all going to be alright.”

“... Yeah. Yeah, we’re going to be alright,” Noct echoes, not quite meaning it, but he can feel the hope in the words nevertheless.

Iris is very much like Gladio, where they appear so much older than they actually are. They know when to fool around, when to be serious. They act maturely, they’re emotionally adept. Iris might say she’s struggling, but it’s amazing in itself that she knows how she feels, what it means, and can identify what she wants to do in response. Noct and Luna can’t do that. Iris is practically a decade younger, but she feels so much older.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you how to grieve, she tells him.

He’ll bear that in mind.

* * *

Noct winces as another headache comes forth, and throughout the entire time they fight through Glacial Grotto, it just keeps building and building. The others ask him if he’s ok, and he grits his teeth and tells them that he probably needs to visit the Disc. The migraine is most likely the cause of Titan, trying to call Noct to him.

So after Noct manages to get a hold of the Swords of the Wanderer, they tie up some loose ends, finishing some monster quests they’ve taken on and some favors they’ve made to Cindy and some others. After that, the plan is to set off to the Disc of Cauthess.

There’s a quiet lull in between battles, where they’re resting at a motel in the middle of nowhere. Noct’s sitting out on the roof, and a light rain is coming down.

“Hey!” A voice pipes up, and Prompto walks up and sits beside him. “You’re sitting awfully close to edge. Don’t get ‘noct’ off.”

“Stop. I get enough from Ignis, and the puns are even worse coming from you.”

Prompto only laughs, and dangles his legs off the edge. “I love you too, bro. Man, I can’t believe we’re doing this. After everything that’s happened, I got to go on this adventure with you all. I know everyone hasn’t been in the best of spirits, but still, I’m glad to be here.”

There’s a pause, but Noct feels like Prompto is trying to say something else, something deeper, and he just doesn’t know how. “Couldn’t have made it this far without you,” He tells him, trying to prompt him into spitting it out.

Prompto brightens. “You really think so? I’ve been helpful?”

“Of course you were, you doofus.” Noct rolls his eyes affectionately. “Why would you think otherwise? There’s a reason I asked you to come with me.”

“It’s just…” Prompto shifts uncomfortably. “I’m nothing special, you know? I don’t have any talents that could really help you, like Gladio and Ignis. I can’t cook. I can’t even fight that well. I’m the weak link in the chain, I get it. So… I just want to say thanks. For letting me come.”

Alarmed, Noct leans in close to shake him. “Don’t say stuff like that. Prompto, you’re great. You’re not the weak link of anything, alright? I’m serious, you can ask anyone and they’d tell you otherwise.”

“But,” Prompto protests, and Noct’s actually concerned, because he has no idea where this is coming from, and this is the first time in a long time Prompto has opened up to him this much. Noct knows he’s not the most attentive of people, but surely he didn’t miss all this self doubt through the years, did he? “But, I’m… I… I tried really hard, when we first met, for you to like me. I just… don’t ever feel like I’m doing enough.”

“Prompto, listen to me,” Noct asks desperately. “Please don’t stay stuff like that. Have I ever given you a reason for you to doubt yourself?”

To his horror, Prompto turns red and looks away. “It wasn’t anything like that,” He mutters, trying to deny it. “It was my fault and it was a long time ago, we were only kids, and I don’t really think you meant it that way.” But Noct is already miles away, spinning out of axis, trying to puzzle through the mystery Prompto’s presented to him, and he can slowly see the pieces starting to fit together.

Prompto had said when they first met. High school? No, elementary, after the incident with Pryna. The first time they talked, Prompto tripped over something, Noct can’t remember what, but he helped him up. And then what? Noct left, probably. What else happened? The more he tries to think, the more he thinks about how Prompto avoided him for years after that, and his massive change afterwards. What was it that triggered it? Was it something Noct said or did?

And then all of a sudden, it comes to him. Prompto had fallen to the ground, and Noct had offered his hand. Back then, he was still weak from the injury from when the Marilith had struck, and pulling him up had been a struggle. What had he said—

“You’re heavy,” Noct breathes out, and Prompto looks like a deer caught in headlights. “I said that, didn’t I? Don’t try to deny it.”

He looks at his feet, obviously unhappy. “Look, I know you didn’t mean it like that, ok? It was just my own self esteem getting in the way, like it is now. Just don’t worry about it, it’s in the past.”

“No, I’m sorry, Prompto,” Noct says, and shushes the blond when he tries to protest. “You can say whatever you want, but it’s clear that it’s been bothering you for a long time. I wasn’t even _thinking_ about what you looked like back then, when I said that. I’ve never cared about what you look like, and I hope you know that.”

“I know that,” Prompto says, and his freckles are more pronounced in his embarrassment. “It’s fine, you don’t—”

“Just because I didn’t mean anything by it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize. Because you’re my friend, and I caused you a lot pain that I didn’t mean. Isn’t that worth saying sorry for?” And Noct feels terrible, because that means— that means all those years he was wondering what Prompto was trying to do, he was working his ass off to lose weight (and his weight is something Noct’s never even noticed, never even noted in his own mind) because he thought Noct would like him better that way. “I like you the way you are, Prompto. And don’t try and do anything for me or anyone else. You’re always trying to make people laugh so you can feel better about who you are— yes, I caught that, don’t act so surprised— and that’s ok, but one day I hope you can feel good about yourself no matter what you do.”

“Noct, I…” Prompto brushes wet hair out of his face, fiddles with his wristbands. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. You don’t get it. When I was younger, I felt terrible about myself— my personality, my body, all of me. I wasn’t in a very good place. You helped me to look at myself and think, _I can be someone better than this_ , and that I could change myself. I needed that push from you.

“What you said, about being happy with the way I am right now, I don’t think I could ever be that. I want to be better, and sure, a part of it is because I don’t want to disappoint you all. But it’s more than that. Or at least, I want it to be more than that. I want to think, _I need to be better_ , and make it so that it’s just for myself, not anyone else. So yeah, in a way I guess you’re right. But I don’t ever want to stop being better, you know?

“But… thanks, Noct, for apologizing.” Prompto smiles at him weakly. “ I guess I shouldn’t have said all that stuff, huh? Sorry for that, I guess. Didn’t want to bombard you with a bunch of me problems.”

“You’re a big idiot,” Noct announces, like the whole world doesn’t already know. “One time you told me that you’d respect my secrets, and then I told you I’d respect yours. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me things. I care about you. I love you. Like you said, things have been pretty wild, but that doesn’t change any of this. You’re allowed to feel however you want, and I’m not going to stop you, alright? No one is going stop you, you’re just as good as Ignis and Gladio, and you can do whatever you want. Don’t you dare forget any of that.”

Don’t you dare forget, Noct thinks, and he tries to glare Prompto into submission, who’s eyes are shining and he gives Noct a friendly clap on the shoulder and says, “I won’t. Promise.”

The next day they head back to Lestallum, handing in the last of the supplies they needed to deliver to the various merchants around the town, and they’re finally ready to set off to the Disc, when an unexpected and unwelcome visitor is found leaning on the side of the Regalia.

“Why, hello!” Ardyn Izunia greets them cheerfully. “Fancy meeting the four of you here. What a charming little town, wouldn’t you agree? It has its rustic merits, I would think, although it’s certainly no Insomnia.”

“Chancellor Izunia,” Ignis returns coolly. “What brings you here?”

He doesn’t even try to pretend that their meeting was chance. “You desire a meeting with the Archaean, yes?” Ardyn adjusts his hat. “Surely you remember that the Disc of Cauthess is currently under imperial control, fully armed and guarded. I, of course, being the kind soul that I am, will help you get in. What do you say, do we have a deal?”

“What’s the catch?” Gladio bites out, bristling and ready to strike.

Ardyn puts his hand to heart, as if he’s been offended. “Why, who do you think I am? I require nothing in return, simply that you do not kill me as I am guiding you there.”

“... What do you want?” Noct asks. He can’t make sense of it at all. What would he gain from this? Besides, when Luna had went, there had been no one at the guard stations, as if it had been purposefully abandoned, which means the chancellor had intentionally let Luna through. Why, though? The empire does not want the covenant to happen.

Ardyn’s laughter interrupts his thoughts, and he practically cackles, walking up to Noct. “How foolish can you get?” He asks softly. “Do you really not know, _my dear_?”

_So wonderful to finally meet you, my dear._

_Oh, my dear, you are much too kind._

Noct immediately draws back, causing Gladio to position himself between him and the chancellor protectively. Ignis materializes his daggers, and Prompto places himself in a defensive stance next to Noct.

‘My dear.’ What he called Luna. How did he know? Just how deep has the empire dug into the secrets of the Lucis kings? Is it common knowledge within the upper ranks of the imperial forces? No, something isn’t right. If that was the case, they never would have let Luna go to Insomnia. They would’ve known she had familial ties there, and even for their plan, Noct doesn’t think it’s worth the risk. Niflheim doesn’t know; Ardyn Izunia does, and for some reason, he hasn’t informed anyone.

It’s too late to pretend not to have any idea what he’s talking about, so Noct simply flattens out his expression. They need this audience with the Archaean, and both he and the chancellor know this. He’s proud that his voice barely shakes when he says, “We accept your proposition.”

Ardyn only widens his smile. “Very well. You see, my dear, there’s no reason to mistrust me. After all, you and I ultimately have the same goal.”

“You destroyed Insomnia, stole the Crystal, and helped kill my f-father,” Noct says. “What part of that intersected with my interests?”

Ardyn only chuckles louder. “I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, my dear,” He says, wiping away tears from his eyes. “You’re far too amusing. Just how ignorant are you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s quite alright,” Ardyn answers. “You won’t have to.”

“What was it that got you so spooked?” Gladio asks him, while the Regalia trails behind Ardyn’s car (how he managed to get it into Lucis, Noct has no idea). “You looked like he stabbed you in the stomach.”

“You don’t want to know,” Noct responds darkly. “What I’m more concerned about right now is how he found us. He knew we were going to go to the Disc.”

“It’s not impossible to deduce,” Ignis remarks. “The amount of earthquakes recently have been abnormal, and it’s obvious to anyone that the Archaean is restless. What strikes me as odd is how he knew we were in Lestallum at that particular moment.”

Noct frowns. Something about that last statement strikes him as familiar, and he feels a sudden sense of deja vu. He’s been in this situation before, hasn’t he? Where he wasn’t expecting to be found, but he was. And then—

“Ah, fuck.” Every single fucking time. First the hairpin, now this. Noct just doesn’t learn, does he? “I bet he’s tracking us. That oracle ascension coin he gave us at Galdin Quay, we still have it, right?”

“You mean you think it’s a tracking device?” Prompto asks as Noct fishes it out of his inventory of items and throws it out of the speeding Regalia. “Guess that would make sense. Welp, it’s gone now.”

Ardyn drops them off at the edge of the Disc and bids them farewell, and Noct and the others descend down the familiar rocky slope. As it turns out, what Titan had meant by a test was _engaging in combat with a nigh immortal Astral that can literally kill Noct with a sweep of a hand_ , and it only gets worse when imperial dropships start appearing over the edge of the crater, and Niflheim begins to fire at the Archaean. But he manages to live. Somehow. It might have something to do with Gladio shaking him and telling him to stop freaking out, and Ignis and Prompto’s Blizzara magic, which they promptly use once they manage to get reunited.

“We can’t stay here for much longer!” Ignis yells, batting flames away. “You’ve received the Mark, Noct? Then let us hurry on out, before we burn to a crisp.”

“Easier said than done, Iggy!” Gladio shouts back, and grabs Prompto to keep him from falling into a fire.

“Would you like a hand?” A voice calls out from above, and Ardyn stands atop an airship, smiling genially down at them. “I can take you out of here, free of charge.”

(He then proceeds to steal the Regalia.)

* * *

Luna rents a chocobo at the next outpost she stops at, and all of a sudden travel is a lot easier and safer. The birds, however, won’t stand to go into Fociaugh Hollow with her, so she ventures into the dungeon with only Gentiana and her dogs by her side.

Ramuh is infinitely easier to deal with Titan, and seeing as the Archaean was by no means wrathful, that is saying something. Again, though, he has a test he wishes for Noct to pass. The familiar ache hits her once the deal is made, and Luna can’t stop herself from screaming this time. She waits for the pain to retreat once again. It lessens, but doesn’t fade.

It probably never will.

She needs to go to Altissia now, where the Hydraean slumbers. Frankly, Luna has no idea how she will manage that. As of now, both she and Noct still have no access to the other continent. Jared had said he was looking for a way, so maybe she should simply head back to Lestallum and wait for Noct to meet with the Fulgarian, then head to Altissia together.

Stepping out of the cave, she squints as bright light filters through the trees. It temporarily blinds her, but once her vision clears, she steps back in horror, because she had thought they hadn’t known, she thought she was being discreet, how did they find her—

“Sister,” Ravus greets her coolly, his metal appendage glinting ever so slightly. Around him, dozens of magitek troopers point their weapons at her. “Do not attempt to resist. There are blockades that will keep you from exiting the Duscae region. I am taking you back home.”

Without hesitation, Luna whips out the ring, but quick as a flash, Ravus is by her side and he grabs her arm. “Have you gone mad?” He hisses. “Do you not know the price of the ring?”

“I could say the same to you,” Luna bites back, a not-so-subtle dig at his new arm. “Please, Ravus. Let me go.”

“The empire wants you dead,” Ravus tells her, ignoring her remarks. “They want the ring. I shall take you and Gentiana back to Tenebrae, where you will be safe.” Luna looks up at her brother in surprise, and he loosens his grip once he knows she will listen. “Please, Lunafreya. Come with me. It is not safe for you to be in Lucis.”

Luna frowns and thinks about what Ravus has said. This… actually solves her problem of reaching the other continent. She needs to get to Altissia quickly, before Noctis, so she can negotiate with the first secretary about the Hydraean, the only Astral residing near such a large city. The sooner she can reach Accordo, the better. She’s not sure how she will convince Ravus to let her leave Tenebrae, but she’ll take it a step at a time.

“I will go with you,” Luna says slowly, sounding out the words. “So long as you promise not to take the ring from me.”

“It is done.” Ravus responds quickly, far too quickly, and this doesn’t sound like her brother at all. He’s usually all for the empire’s plans, and even if whatever lingering sentiment he has for Luna stops him from killing her, there’s nothing stopping him from taking the ring.

What are you planning, Luna wants to ask the stranger in front of her, but she simply takes his hand as he leads her into an aircraft, back to their home.

* * *

Meeting Ramuh is more tedious than anything, Noct would like to think, and his test is most definitely not as nerve wracking as Titan’s. Throughout the entire time, he’s more worried about the Regalia than anything else. The Fulgarian, known for his wisdom, is sure to see the value in the covenant, so Noct isn’t too concerned about it.

Their car, however, not only holds sentimental value, but it’s the key for travel around Lucis. Stuck to riding chocobos, the group’s travelling speed has been greatly reduced. Ignis is having Cindy try to locate it, but chances are the car is at an imperial base.

After he receives the Mark of the Fulgarian, Cindy calls and tell them she’s located the Regalia at Aracheole Stronghold. “Looks like the Niffs are plannin’ to ship the girl out,” She says over the phone, her usually cheerful voice serious. “If you wanna get her back, you’d best get going.”

They infiltrate the base that night, and amidst shutting down the main generator that empowers the imperial troopers, Noct summons for the first time. They’re completely surrounded, completely outnumbered, and Noct feels a tug at his gut and magic sizzles in his ears, he lets instinct take over and he _pulls_.

The lightening sky darkens, clouds gather and thunder rumbles, and it’s possibly one of the most terrifying experiences Noct has ever been in. Ramuh’s Judgement completely obliterates the surrounding area, the ground black and cracking, the heat of the bolt heavy in the air. The four are the only ones that remain in the smoking aftermath.

“I think I’m starting to get why this whole covenant thing is necessary,” Prompto says in a very small voice.

“What, you didn’t before?” Noct returns as the glow in his eyes fades and the sky returns to its orange hue.

“Well, I knew that _you_ knew what you were doing, but I was kind of confused.” Prompto says as they walk to the Regalia. “Before we went to the Disc, all of a sudden you were like ‘I need to speak with the Archaean,’ without any warning. I have no idea how you knew that. And then afterwards, you had us travel all over Duscae for Ramuh. How did you even know that we needed to visit all those places?”

“Oh.” Noct hadn’t really thought about it, but it must seem rather odd to the others, as if he instinctively just knows what to do. He settles for a half truth. “Well, you guys knew about the headaches and stuff. For Ramuh, I kinda just followed the lightning in the sky, and things turned out fine.”

“But how did you even know that the headaches and the lightning were because of the Astrals?” Prompto persists. “I mean, I don’t usually see a storm coming and think, ‘Oh hey look, Ramuh wants to see me!’ If you know what I mean.”

“According to the Cosmogony, it is the Oracle’s duty to awaken the Astrals,” Ignis says. “Has Lady Lunafreya contacted you?”

“Yes,” lies Noct, although the comment is entirely incorrect.

“I hadn’t seen Pryna or Umbra,” Gladio points out as the Regalia comes into view, raising an eyebrow. “What, did they come when you were taking a shit or something?”

Noct hesitates. Maybe he should just… tell them? The chancellor already knows, and it bothers him that the enemy knows more about him than his friends. But the empire still doesn’t, it could be dangerous. Ignis and Gladio probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing. They’re both officially Crownsguard, and Crownsguard means rules, regulations, and Noct’s Safety Always Comes First. There are simply things, no matter the circumstance, that should never be told, and this is most certainly one of them.

Ah, screw it. Noct opens his mouth. “I’m—”

“Uh, guys.” Prompto interrupts, pointing behind them, “We’ve got a guest.”

When Noct turns around, he sees the last person he had ever expected to see.

“What are you doing here?” Is out of his mouth before he can control himself, and he barely manages to stop himself from clapping his own mouth shut. He takes an aggressive step forward.

“Noctis,” Ravus greets him flatly, his expression even more chilly than it usually is. “Long has it been.”

Noct grits his teeth. “I said, what are you doing here?”

“You receive the Storm’s blessing,” Ravus replies bitterly, which answers nothing. “But you know nothing of the consequences.” He steps closer and closer, until all of a sudden the tip of his blade is pointed at Noct’s neck.

Only it’s not his blade, Noct realizes. It’s King Regis’ sword.

A deep, burning anger bubbles up in Noct, because Ravus is here, threatening him with death with his father’s sword, calling him ignorant the same way the chancellor does, acting — like always— like he knows everything, that he is always right. What do _you_ know of the consequences, Ravus? There is no one that understands what all of this means better than Noct. He’s always blaming, pointing his finger blindly, incriminating the innocent, and now that he is here, shouting _Luna will die and it will be all your fault_ , and Noct has reached the end of his patience for his foolish, stupid brother.

He can see Gladio moving out of the corner of his eye; he gives a quick motion for him to stop. “Who are you to say that?” Noct challenges him, not wavering, even when Ravus presses his father’s sword into his skin. “You don’t even get the consequences of your own actions, you dog of the empire. They killed your parents, and here you are, the High Commander of their army. You’re at the emperor's beck and call, aren’t you—”

Ravus’ face contorts into an ugly snarl. Incensed, Noct summons his Armiger, primed and ready. He’s ready to fight, he’s so ready to shred his brother into pieces, him and his piling wrongs and gleaming metal arm and stolen sword.

“— I’d say that’s far enough,” Ardyn Izunia speaks up, a genial smile on his face as always. “Settle down, children. Having a sibling spat, are we?”

“Do not mock me,” Ravus hisses, interpreting the chancellor’s words as figurative, but he backs down nonetheless.

Ardyn gives him a parody of a bow, then turns his attention to Noct. “I’ve done you yet another favor, my dear. You’ll note that the are no more blockades around Duscae. And now, we take our leave. The high commander and I have some business to attend to concerning a certain deity, so I’m certain we shall meet again.”

So they’re going Altissia for Leviathan. Noct licks his lips, heart still beating fast and anger still wrapped around him. None of them relax until Ravus turns heel and both the chancellor and high commander are out of sight.

Out of sight, not out of mind.

But when they finally return, Lestallum is not the same town they had departed from. Noct can practically hear the misery echoing in the alleyways, and they hurry to the Leville.

“Oh, Gladdy,” Iris says, and she’s just standing at the entrance of the hotel, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She looks smaller than she is. “The empire came while you were gone.”

* * *

It’s just a blow after another.

“Talcott and I are going to Caem,” Iris says quietly. “We’ll start over there. Build a new home.”

She’s running away, Noct realizes, the same way she ran away from Insomnia. She’s leaving Lestallum and all the hopes and dreams she had here in order to forget the pain. But _don’t ever let anyone tell you how to grieve_ , Iris reminds him, and Noct doesn’t say anything.

But Cape Caem, west of Galdin Quay, is no less inland of the aforementioned port, and Monica tells them that Jared has— had secured them a boat to Altissia. “Your father’s old boat, the one he used in his younger days. It’s in bad shape, but we have Cid on the job.”

Their departure from Lestallum is bittersweet, and Ignis drives them down south toward the cape. Iris seats herself between Noct and Gladio, and her smile is just as bright as it’s always been— even brighter, maybe. She cracks jokes, makes sarcastic comments, takes a lot of selfies with Prompto, and Noct’s not sure how they’ve made it without her for so long.

He says that aloud, and Iris gives him a confused look. “Umm, duh? I’m Iris Amicitia— no one can live without me?” But she can’t hide her smile, and Noct rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’re confusing the names,” He responds. “I guarantee you, Noctis Lucis Caelum is the guy you need. He’ll improve your quality of life in minutes.”

Iris sticks her tongue out at him, and she’s about to make some snappy comeback when Gladio speaks up. “Could you stop with the ego contest?”

So they reluctantly settle back into their seats, and Gladio adds slyly, “Besides, the only treasure of this world is me.”

“Overruled.” Noct and Iris speak in unison.

In the front, Prompto pokes at Ignis. “Are you seeing this?” He mock whispers, and he sounds close to tears. “They’re like a domestic family in the back.”

“I can’t take my eyes off the road, Prompto.” Ignis reminds him patiently. “But it does sound like the family friendly edition of a pissing contest, so yes, I see your point. And for future reference, ‘domestic family’ is not a term.”

“Oh my god, are you throwing shade? Iggy’s totally throwing shade.” Prompto lets out an excited noise. “I got to hear the legend roast people!”

“Wait, what do you mean by legend, Prompto?” Iris turns to him curiously, and Ignis lets out a quiet little sigh.

This is going to be awkward to explain. “Oh, uh, so a few years back, Ignis came up with one recipe too many, and then I sort of turned it into a meme,” Noct explains. “So now whenever he does anything vaguely memeable, Prompto gets really excited. He also sometimes refers to Ignis as ‘the legend.’ Yeah.”

Prompto adjusts himself so that he’s sitting backwards in his seat, facing Iris. “You don’t understand, it’s not just a meme.” He informs her earnestly. “It’s gonna be the meme that will outlive us all. Iggy’s gonna be a myth among myths, the ultimate meme of legends.”

Iris only looks more confused as Ignis sighs again.

“Hey, Iggy, do it right now,” Noct says, his voice strained as he tries to keep himself from cracking up. There’s no point in laughing at a joke that hasn’t happened yet. “C’mon.”

“Brace yourself, Iris,” Gladio mutters, a smirk on his face. “This is going to be wild.”

“On three,” Prompto announces. “One, two…”

“That’s it! I’ve come up with a new recipeh!” The four of the shout in unison, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

At that, Noct buckles over in laughter, tears coming out of his eyes as he wheezes. “It’s so _dumb_ ,” He exclaims, and Gladio’s laughing too, the really stupid one he always does when he really means it. “It’s so dumb and I _love_ it.” Prompto looks as if he’s just been told he won the lottery, and Ignis, bless his soul with his infinite patience, simply looks resigned to his fate.

“... Yeah, I’m starting to wonder how you guys managed to get this far without me too,” Iris speaks up slowly, and Noct only howls with more laughter, and despite everything, he feels lighter than he has in a long time.

* * *

Fort Valluerey is quite similar to Aracheole Stronghold, although Noct isn’t sure whether it’s because of the dim light or they actually do have the same layout. Either way, infiltrating the fort is a familiar task.

They track Commander Caligo as he walks deeper and deeper into the base, and he seems to be complaining about someone— who, Noct’s not sure. Either way, he quickly warp strikes to him and knocks him out. Ignis gives him a thumbs up (seriously, Ignis, why) and mouths, I’ll take him to the Hunters, so Noct nods quickly and runs over to find Gladio and Prompto, who are currently acting as distractions.

When it’s all over and done, the MTs taken out and the main generator shut down, Ignis returns, only he tells them that Caligo has escaped. It’s not the best news, but at least they’ve secured the base. Or at least, Noct thinks so for a few moments, and then—

“Hey there, pretty boy,” A voice calls out from above, and they all look up in surprise.

Noct’s never met her, but he recognizes her appearance, with her infamous armored attire and silver hair. It’s Imperial Commodore Aranea Highwind, and she’s pointing her lance right at them.

She jumps down, and Noct tenses, preparing himself for a long and hard fight. Highwind can’t be taken lightly, and they need to get out of here alive—

“Lady Lunafreya!” The maid calls, and Luna jerks around, surprised. “Please, Lady Lunafreya, your services are needed in the village.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Luna responds, and she hurriedly runs out of the manor, letting her retainers guide the way through the night. The lead her to the physician’s house, all the lights lit up and the door open.

When she enters, there’s a man lying in the center of the room, the doctor hovering anxiously over him. Strange blotches cover his skin, and he looks as if he’s in pain. Beads of sweat roll down his face. Luna kneels down next to him, takes a quick glance at his condition, but she only needs to look at the doctor once before he nods and tells her, “It’s the same sickness, my Lady,” and Luna knows what she needs to do.

“It will be alright,” She tells the man quietly, and she’s not even sure he can hear her through the pain, but it won’t hurt to say it aloud. Leaning in closer, she brings her hands to his head. “Blessed stars of life and light, deliver us from darkness blight.” She murmurs, and her hands glow golden. There are gasps behind her, and the man’s face slowly returns to a normal hue.

Luna sighs and turns to the woman hovering anxiously next to her. “Are you his wife?” She asks. At her nod, Luna says to her, “He will be weak for a period of time, but I have done all I can. He will recover.”

The woman bursts into tears and she sobs, “Thank you, Lady Lunafreya, thank you,” And Luna gives her a warm hug and this, this is why she became Oracle.

When she tries to stand, however, her knees buckle in a sudden wave of weakness, and Luna knows she’s reached her limit far too long ago, and that familiar burning pain starts up again. Her retainers scramble to support, and she lets them half-carry, half-drag her back to her room because she’s exhausted and Noct still needs to get back to Old Lestallum alive.

Her thoughts flit back to the man with the strange, familiar illness. No one in Tenebrae knows how to cure it except to defer the Oracle, and she’s asked Gentiana countless times _what_ it is, to which she always responds, “It is the Scourge of our Star.”

She tells Luna how to heal it, but she doesn’t tell Luna what it is, or what it is caused by. When Luna sees those afflicted with the so-called starscourge, she can feel the darkness, and it’s only now that it feels like something else, something like, she doesn’t know. She can’t put her finger on it.

But the word starscourge has implications in of itself, and Luna feels like it is more than just a mysterious illness. She’s never seen anyone succumb to it before, and something tells her she doesn’t want to.

“Lady Lunafreya, Lord Ravus has returned to Tenebrae,” A servant informs her quietly, and Luna gives him a nod. “Tell my brother that I’d like to see him, if you could.” There are so many things she needs to say him; I must go to Altissia, did you know of the raid on Lestallum, why do you have father’s sword, why are you doing any of this I don’t understand.

Her retainer nods and leaves, but when he returns he tells her that Lord Ravus isn’t available at this current moment, and he’s busy dealing with matters. She’ll have to wait.

It takes Ravus a day for him to actually see her, and when he does, it’s without warning. Luna’s outside, standing atop a hill near the residence, and she watches as Ravus takes long, impatient strides past the sylleblossoms to where she is.

“I want to go to Altissia,” Luna says, before Ravus has the chance to say anything. “I wish to awaken the Hydraean.”

Ravus makes a sound, her father’s sword swinging at his hip. “Absolutely not. Have you gone mad, Lunafreya? There is no reason for you to—”

“There is all the reason,” Luna interrupts. “What would you have me do, simply wait here for the empire to succeed in their plans? You know I would never allow that.”

“So you would follow through with the covenant?” Ravus demands angrily. “Throwing your own life away, all for some pitiful king who can’t even stand by himself?” As Luna had suspected, Ravus knows that if she continues down this path, she will die before long. “I heard from our servants that you collapsed yesterday. You are reaching your limit, Lunafreya, and soon enough—”

He reaches out to her, and Luna brushes his hand aside. That momentary skin-to-skin contact makes her wince, and both she and Ravus quickly jerk their hands away.

Ravus— he feels like—

“What did you do?” Luna whispers, and then louder, more demanding, “Ravus, what have you done to yourself?” Because Ravus doesn’t feel right anymore, he feels like, like,

Like that man yesterday, Luna realizes with horror, and she makes the last connection. He feels like Ardyn Izunia. He feels like the starscourge. But he has none of the symptoms of the illness, no blotches on his skin, no fever.

“Do not concern yourself with me,” Ravus deflects tersely, and when Luna reaches out to heal him, this time he brushes her away, careful not to make direct contact. “But no, I will not allow you to—”

“You think I want it?” Luna snaps, her patience reaching an end. “Do you think I want to die, Ravus?” If he refuses to tell her what’s happened to him, fine. She’s been angry at him for long enough, too, and maybe this time she won’t get interrupted.

“With you throwing your life away like this, yes! I think so,” Ravus yells back at her, and Luna punches him in the shoulder, hard. It probably doesn’t hurt, but Ravus looks surprised nonetheless.

“You’re a fool,” She spits out. “What right do you have to decide what I do? What right do you have to say that I can’t do this? What right do you have to do anything at all?”

“I am your older brother,” Ravus protests, rubbing his shoulder. “Of course I have the right—”

“You threw that right away the moment Tenebrae fell,” Luna cries sharply. “Since that day, it’s been nothing but revenge on your mind, for the destruction of Lucis. What do you care about me? What do you care about the continuance of Tenebrae? You most certainly don’t, because all you have doing for the past 12 years is heed to the empire’s bidding and become their lapdog.

“I was the one who fought for local autonomy. I was the one who tried to do my duty, I was the one who visited our people and healed the sick, I was the one who was _trying_ ,” and Ravus looks oh so very lost, not understanding where all of this is coming from, because Luna has always tried to be silent and mild, and now her eyes sting angrily and her voice is cracking and she is furious. “You have no right to tell me what to do anymore. Never tell me I can’t do this.”

“Lunafreya…” And now Ravus is beginning to lose his composure as well, his cool facade cracking at the edges. “I never—”

“Yes, you never,” Luna agrees bitterly. “You _never_ , Ravus. You’ve never done anything. Do you think I want to die, Ravus? You think I never want to see Tenebrae again? You don’t think, perhaps, that there’s people I want to meet? But I’m doing my duty, like I always have, like you have never done, because if I don’t Eos will perish. Why can’t you understand this?

“You’ve changed, Ravus, from when we were children. You were never this bitter, this angry. What happened to the brother I knew, who was good and kind and cared? I—” But then Luna is cut off, and Ravus’ incredulous laughter is loud and piercing.

“ _I’ve_ changed?” He demands, his face an ugly sneer. “Lunafreya, you are a hypocrite.”

“What?!”

“You think I have not noticed?” Ravus stalks up to her. “You are always so wrapped up as Oracle. You wear your role like a mask, and you cover yourself in that distant smile and meaningless pleasantries and elegance. You talk about justice and light and peace, as if there’s nothing else that matters. I have not seen a hair or hide of my sister since she turned sixteen.”

His words pierce Luna’s guard, because she wasn’t expecting his words to be so true, and she takes a step away from him. The pleasant evening breeze tickles at their cheeks, the orange sky calm and the field of sylleblossoms sway.

“You say you don’t want to die?” Ravus snorts. “Then don’t die, Lunafreya. Isn’t this what I’ve been trying to say? There is no need for you to do your duty. Be selfish, sister. Even with your help, that pathetic excuse for a king will not succeed.”

Not for the first time, Luna looks up into her brother’s eyes and she doesn’t know who she’s speaking to anymore. He’s not making any sense. “Since when have you even cared?” She asks, the hard edge in her tone still there.

“I have always cared,” Ravus says back to her, leaving Luna even more confused than before. This is not the same man who has spit curses at Lucis and her father for twelve years, the arrogant one that had the nerve to put on the Ring of Lucii. “But you— you care too much for meaningless trivialities. Why do you side with that boy?”

“It’s my choice,” Luna snaps. “You have no right to make that decision for me, brother. I will go to Altissia, whether you approve or not.”

Ravus makes an angry noise of frustration, and he paces and forth. “I can see that look of disgust you direct at me, Lunafreya, but you shall not set foot outside Tenebrae. I shall make it so.” And Luna knows that threat is not empty, either— he’s done so before, hasn’t he?

So Luna pushes her anger aside as best she can, just for moment so she can think, and takes a step back and considers the facts. What does she know, and what can she do now?

She needs to get to Altissia. She has to. What is she willing to give in order to get there?

Luna could put on the ring (the ring that Ravus still hasn’t taken from her, hasn’t taken to the empire), like she’s been preparing to for ages. Maybe she could knock Ravus out, then make a run for the rails. Once she got to Altissia, she could request for refuge with the Accordan government. The key word is maybe, and maybe is not very reassuring.

Or…

It’s a terrible risk. It’s probably not worth it. But I’ve always cared, Ravus has said. Luna doesn’t trust him. She can’t trust him. She needs only look at his arm, at his sword, and know that he could very well be enemy. But this man standing in front of her, even with all the incrimination written upon him, he is… something. He’s family, and that means something. At the very least, it _should_ mean something.

I don’t want you to waste your life by doing this, Ravus has said. All for one pathetic prince. And Luna takes a deep breath, and she says to him, “You will let me leave. You will allow me to call the Hydraean.”

“Give me a reason why I should,” Ravus demands, and Luna gives him a bitter smile, all teeth and and as much malice she can muster. Altering her speech patterns, slouching forward, she says dryly, “Because I’ve received the Storm’s blessing, but I know nothing of the consequences.”

Ravus’ brow furrows, not understanding, but he will. Oh, he will.

“Because who are you to say that? You don’t even get the consequences of your own actions, you dog of the empire. They killed your parents, and here you are, the High Commander of their army. You’re at the emperor's beck and call, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” And Noct inches closer and closer to him, as Ravus turns ashen.

“That—”

“You fucking tried to kill my dad. You tried to take the ring. You took his sword. You helped steal my kingdom’s Crystal. You tried to kill me,” Noct’s inches away from Ravus’ face, and he grabs him by the collar. “You insult me to my face, and you don’t give a shit whether I live or die, you bastard, do you?

Ravus wrenches himself away, breathing hard, and to Noct’s vindictive satisfaction he almost looks scared. “But, but that is—” He stammers out.

“Fuck you, Ravus,” Noct says plainly. “You won’t listen to your own sister? Fine, listen to me, asshole. If you let Luna go, yeah sure, I’ll die. But if you don’t let Luna go, _I’ll_ die. As a matter a fact, we’ll all probably fucking die. Do you really think the empire will let the Oracle live?”

“I— I—”

“Not only are you a shitty person, you’re a shitty brother,” Noct says. “I’ll admit it first, maybe I wasn’t the best sibling either. But I tried, didn’t I? I tried so fucking hard to reach out to you. I’d say things like, Ravus, I want to help you. And all you did was push away. I hate Lucis, you’d tell me. I won’t rest until they fall— you pothead, you absolute pisspot!”

“So make it up to me,” Noct snaps, staring hard at Ravus. “I dare you to make it up to me. _Let me go._ ”

“You’re Noctis,” Ravus breathes, looking down in confusion. “You’re— you’re the prince. How is this possible?”

“Who the fuck cares right now?” Noct cries. The breeze starts to pick up, and his dress flaps in the wind. He awkwardly brushes it down.

“I— I attempted to kill your father,” Ravus whispers, and then in an even smaller voice, “I attempted to take your life back then, at that base, did I not?”

Noct looks at him coldly. “That’s a stupid question and you know it.”

Ravus is silent for a long time, but when he does speak, he speaks weakly, “I am sorry.”

“What are you, five years old?” Noct looks up at the sky, darkness spreading and the bright colors of the sunset dimming. “If you really mean it, let me do what I want.”

“I am sorry,” Ravus repeats, and he wraps his arms around Noct.

Noct squirms. Ravus feels _wrong_ ; like there’s darkness leaking out of his pores. But he doesn’t let go, and somehow he feels strong, unnaturally strong. Noct kicks him a few times, and he doesn’t even flinch.

“I do not want you to die,” Ravus says in his ear. “Because our mother— she fell the same way, did she not? Performing her duty as Oracle, assisting the king of Lucis, assisting the Chosen.

“I do not want you to die,” Ravus continues. “Because that means I will be all alone.”

Noct doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and Ravus only holds him closer. He just doesn’t understand. He just doesn’t understand, and Ravus is practically crying, and everything still feels wrong, and so she opens her mouth to tell him what she thinks.

“Our mother was an exemplary human being,” Luna starts. “I would have been honored to pass on the way she had. That is why I must go, Ravus. I must go to Altissia… but first, indulge me for a few moments. Ravus, I ask of you— did you order the raid on Lestallum?”

“Yes,” Ravus whispers.

“Why?”

“Orders. I do not know.”

“Why have you not taken the ring from me?”

“I do not know anymore.”

“Why did you even try it on to begin with?”

“I do not know anymore.”

“Why did you take his sword?”

“I do not know anymore,” Ravus answers helplessly, and Luna belatedly realizes that perhaps, Ravus does not know what he’s doing either.

“Noctis— Lunafreya, please. I no longer know what to ask of you, but please. Please.” Ravus is begging, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying any more than Luna. “I love you.”

“I love you as well, Ravus,” Luna answers tiredly, the fire drained out of her. Perhaps not so surprisingly, she finds that the words she speaks are the truth. “I will go, because there is still much I want to do before my time runs out.” There is so much, and she still has time. She will meet with Noct in Altissia, and they will finally journey together in search for the remaining Astrals.

The weakness hits her again, both mentally and physically, and Luna finally lets herself lean into Ravus’ embrace despite how wrong it feels, and her tears well up and she murmurs shakily, “I just… I just want to see them. I want to see him. I want to laugh as freely with them as they do with Noct. I want to see him before it is all over.”

“I want to see him,” Luna sniffles, and Ravus can say nothing in response. “I want to see Prompto, and Ignis, and I want to see him. Why can’t I see them?”

Why can’t I see him?

And it’s just the two of them, standing in a field of flowers as the sun slips beneath the horizon, sobbing their eyes out over the unfairness, over the spiteful world.

* * *

In a few hours, Noct cries too.

The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs, and they’re so close to Caem— he can just see the tip of the lighthouse over the horizon— and Ignis puts his hand on his shoulder, Prompto on the other.

The faded scar on his back throbs. Noct hasn’t really thought about it in years, but now it’s all he can feel, pulsing in time with his thudding heart. He’s standing over the corpse of a marilith— the marilith, the one from all those years ago, the one with a scar from the time his dad had marked it with the Armiger.

Only this time, it’s Noct that slices its head clean through his body, and there’s no one to save him but himself. There’s no one to save him, guide him, help him, anymore. His dad’s dead, isn’t he? He’s dead, and he’s not coming back. He’s as lifeless as the daemon laying before him, and he’s never, ever coming back.

And his mother— the one who healed him, the one who taught him how to walk again and the one who taught Luna everything she knows, she’s been long gone, gone for years, but the same grief hits Noct again.

What had Ravus said? I don’t want you to die like our mother; our mother, who had given her life for what was right and his father, who had given his life not for what was right, but for his son and a woman he had hardly known.

“It’s not fair,” Noct whispers fiercely, and angrily wipes tears away. “It’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” Gladio, whose father is also dead and his mother also long gone, agrees quietly. “It’s not fair.”

Iris, whose father is also dead and her mother also long gone, silently offers her arm.

Sylva, Regis, Clarus— their names blur together, and their personas clash and mix in equal measure, until all Noct can think is, they all died for me. Because they believed in me.

That boy will never succeed, Ravus echoes in his mind.

But at this point, it’s no longer a matter of succeeding or failing. Noct must. He simply must, and that is the only way left for him to take. It’s not a matter of faith in the gods or in his own ability to do so, but for all those who have died for him and Luna, Noct can’t die.

Because not only have they sacrificed themselves for him, he’s going to give up Luna as well. That scares him beyond belief, because Noct and Luna may be one and the same, but he was Luna first, wasn’t he? How can he be Noct without Luna? Luna has always been, while Noct has only become after years of childhood, a slow development of forming an identity of his own.

“I…” Noct takes a deep breath. “After Leviathan, let’s go destroy the empire. Reclaim the Crystal. For our home.”

For hearth, and home, Nyx’s words remind him. (And he died for Noct too, didn’t he? He sacrificed his own life— he didn’t have to, he was a fool— and his hometown for it all.)

Because he won’t let any of this hold him down any longer— not Ravus, not his father or his mother, not Nyx, not his own securities, not Luna. He’s going to do this, and he will fulfill his duty, restore light to this world, reclaim his throne.

“Let’s go to Caem,” Noct says, and he blinks away his tears, gives the others a determined look. “And we’ll take Insomnia back.”

He’ll take back the Crown City. He will fulfill his calling. And then he will finally be able to _live_ his life, with all his friends at his side and his kingdom at peace. That’s all Noct has ever wanted. (That’s all Luna has ever wanted, too, but she’s already acknowledged that she won’t get that.)

“Yes,” Ignis agrees. “We will take it all back, Noct.”

“For everyone,” Iris adds, her voice taking on a strange quality.

“Because it’s our home.” Prompto says, oddly distant and sad. He fiddles with his wristbands.

They chorus in their agreement, and only Gladio stays silent.

He stays silent too, long after they clamber back into the Regalia in a resolved silence, and Noct glances at him discreetly over Iris’ head and—

Oh.

Gladio’s hair is whipping back in the wind, his arm resting casually on the side of the door, and Noct can almost pretend nothing’s wrong with what he’s seeing.

But he can’t challenge this, because Noct only needs to glance at his face, at the tight crease in his brow, looks down at his clenched fists, and then back up at his eyes— a raging hazel that practically lights up, and Gladio looks like he could rip the world to shreds if he wanted to right now— and he knows that Gladio is not alright, and he hasn’t been alright.

He looks angry, murderous, and Noct’s reminded of the times Gladio has come to him, this close to a breaking point, only to smile as warmly as he can; hide the aggression and the wrath boiled up in him so he doesn’t have to show it to Noct.

Noct’s known he hasn’t been quite the same since the attack, but it’s been weeks since then, and he curses himself for not having noticed sooner. Gladio’s been grieving too, isn’t he? Just not in the quiet, silent way Noct thinks he has. He’s a maelstrom of fury, livid over everything and everyone probably, because that’s just how Gladio is. He’s either all or none, and he’s pushing all of it back for the sake of the group. He’s probably thinking, I can’t afford to be distracted by this, I have a job to do.

Caem is a only a short drive away by then, and after Cindy informs them of the status of the ship, Gladio turns to Noct and he says, “I got something to ask.”

He takes a deep breath. “This thing with the mythril— you’re going to have to do it without me. I have some things I need to take care of.”

Gladio looks Noct right in the eye when he says this, his stance easy and relaxed, but somehow he just seems incredibly nervous, and Noct can practically feel the manic energy running off him in waves. He looks uncomfortable standing there.

“Wait, what?” Prompto yelps. “How are we supposed to do this without you?” Gladio is their heaviest hitter and most trained in combat. The Vesperpool is bound to be filled with daemons and other tough monsters, and it’ll be a struggle to obtain the mythril they’re after if Gladio isn’t with them.

“Gladio,” Ignis starts in a warning tone, and he opens his mouth in reprimand, because Ignis knows full well the consequences of Gladio’s actions. “You can’t possibly—”

“It’s fine,” Noct interrupts, and Ignis quiets. “It’s fine, Gladio. You can go. We’ll take care of ourselves for a bit.”

He won’t ask where Gladio’s going. He won’t ask what he’s doing. He won’t ask why (he already knows). Gladio needs this. He hasn’t told Noct a thing about anything, deliberately hasn’t said a word, and if he doesn’t want to say, Noct won’t pry. He won’t.

“Just… don’t become what you’re trying to get run away from,” Noct says finally, hating how he can’t hide the worry in his voice. “And don’t forget that you can always ask for help.”

Don’t die, he wants to say, but he doesn’t and Gladio knows anyway. His expression softens just a bit.

“I won’t,” He tells Noct, and to the others he asks, “Can you give us a moment?”

Ignis and Prompto follow Iris into the cottage near the lighthouse, and Gladio grins. It’s not a happy smile, and it’s not grim either. If it were anyone else, Noct would call it melancholic.

“Sometimes I forget how perceptive you are,” He says. “Thanks, Noct. For letting me do this.”

Noct gives him a wan smile, and he leans in to kiss Gladio on the lips. “You, Ignis, and Prompto have been here for me all these weeks. If you need this, you need this. I can’t take that away from you. I’m just sorry I hadn’t noticed sooner.”

Don’t ever let anyone tell you how to grieve, Iris says to him again, and Noct’s starting to figure out that it might’ve been the best piece of advice he’s ever been given.

Gladio’s angry, yes, but more than anything else he needs time to himself, deal with the fact that his father is gone, and one day it will be ok.

Be safe, Gladio.

* * *

When Luna arrives in Altissia, she is taken away by the grandeur and splendor of the city. The Walls of Water is an apt name for Accordo’s capital. As she takes a gondola to the First Secretary’s office with Gentiana, she absorbs all the sights around her in awe, wishing she had a camera like Prompto. She doesn’t have time to go sightseeing, but maybe Noct can do it for her when he arrives.

Secretary Claustra is clearly not expecting guests, and the guards almost turn her away before they realize that she’s the supposedly deceased Oracle. Once Luna’s quickly ushered inside, she is granted an audience with the head of the Accordan government. She greets Luna without warmth, although there is no particular ice in her voice either.

Camelia Claustra is woman of law and order— and everyone respects her for it, even the Empire. Despite being a politician, she’s rather outright with her policies, and she has only one interest: Accordo. Claustra couldn’t care for other kingdoms and provinces unless they affected hers in one way or another, and it shows in her political decisions.

So when Luna tells her, as diplomatically as she possibly can, that she wishes to awaken Leviathan, who is currently slumbering below the waters of Altissia, she can tell that Secretary Claustra’s first instinct is to say no.

She purses her lips, frowns at Luna disapprovingly. “You do realize the sheer amount of damage the Hydraean will cause when she rages, yes? The structural damage to Altissia will be monumental, not to mention the death count. Give me one good reason why I should agree to this.”

“If the civilians are evacuated beforehand, the Accordan government can work to reduce the amount of destruction,” Luna counters. “I admit that calling the Hydraean will damage Altissia, and nothing can stop all of it. But if I do not do this, everything will be destroyed by the empire. The King of Lucis must form a pact with Leviathan. It is necessary to overthrowing Niflheim.”

“The Accordan government has an established truce with the empire. We remain officially under their control, while maintaining local autonomy. Quite like your Tenebrae,” Claustra says. “Why should we help you at the risk of angering them?”

“Because the empire is not on your side,” Luna states frankly. “You may think your interests are mutual, and perhaps they are at the moment, but Niflheim is quick to turn against their allies if they desire something. They are not above trickery. Secretary Claustra, I beg of you, allow me to call the Hydraean.”

And she pauses, and for a long second Luna is afraid that she will refuse, but Secretary Claustra finally dips her head and in a calm, measured voice she says, “Then we will offer you sanctuary from the empire until the King of Lucis arrives and the ceremony commences.”

(Camelia Claustra is a woman of law and order, but she has a good heart as well.)

Luna is offered a private room in a segment of the building, and she is told that she is, under no circumstances, to venture outside into the city. “The only way to make this work is to go public,” Secretary Claustra informs her. “If the people know of the ceremony beforehand, then Niflheim will have to allow the ceremony to at least begin, unless they wish to face the wrath of Altissians over their beloved Oracle. However, what happens at the altar will be up to you and the King.”

Ravus is here as well, and Luna knows this when he walks into her room one day, when she’s more exhausted than usual. She can barely move, and he bends down next to her chair, clasps her hands.

Weakly, Luna looks up at him. “Why are you here?” Not _why are you here in Altissia;_ Luna knows that he has been charged with handling the Hydraean. The empire most likely aims to kill Leviathan before the covenant can be forged, like they had attempted with Titan. But _why are you here in this room_ , because somehow Luna can’t imagine the secretary ever allowing the high commander of the imperial forces in to see the Oracle.

“You cannot stand, can you,” Ravus asks, only it’s not a question.

“No.” Luna freely admits, and she closes her eyes. “No, I cannot.”

A heavy silence falls upon both of them, two siblings who haven’t quite reached an understanding, but nonetheless, are siblings. Ravus, a poor fool who has tried, but has lost track of what he’s trying for. Luna, who will die if she goes through with the this, and will die if she doesn’t.

“Give the sword to Noct,” Luna says finally. “When you meet him again. He will need it.”

“I shall.” Ravus vows, but it is not said with resolution. He is not happy with this. He does not want any of this to happen. And that is all they have to say to each other, this brother and sister held together by both the thinnest of strings and the strongest of ropes.

That is all.

* * *

When Gladio comes back, they’re in Lestallum again and the EXINERIS plant is probably about to blow.

“Oi!” Noct shouts at the fully suited hunter next to him, who just so happens to be Gladio. “Get your ass over here and help me kill these daemons off, and then maybe I’ll forgive you for thinking I wouldn’t recognize you in that!”

“What, can’t handle them yourself, princess?” Gladio returns easily, and in a powerful arc of his broadsword, the last of the Garchimaceras are taken care of. “Hadn’t realized you became so weak when I left.”

“I did not,” Noct retorts back reflexively, belatedly realizes that it’s possibly the lamest response he could have possibly said, and he blushes fiercely underneath his suit. “Ah, whatever. Let’s just get out of here before we get blown to smithereens.”

When they return outside, Holly thanks them for their work and promises that she’ll have the mythril refined in no time at all.

“Boy, am I glad you’re back,” Prompto says in relief when he catches sight of the unmasked Gladio. “Noct was going crazy without you.”

“What? I was not.” Noct’s actually kind of offended. “The hell are you on about, Prompto?”

Gladio grins smugly, the most carefree Noct’s seen him in a long time. “What can I say? No one can live without me.”

“Noct, you tried to _kill_ me like, seven times.” Prompto says to him flatly. “And I think you actually managed to stab Ignis at some point while we were in that hellhole of a dungeon.”

“It was less of a stab and more of an attempted skewering,” Ignis corrects helpfully. “Noctis was in a rather murderous mood while you were gone, Gladio.”

“Will you stop making fun of me?” Noct rolls his eyes and tries to play it off as best he can, but he’s not sure how well he manages to pretend it doesn’t bother him. He keeps blanking out; then his friends try to grab his attention and he thinks they’re the daemons they’re trying to fight off.

It’s a matter of concentration, yes, and Prompto and Ignis think it’s because of Gladio. _He’s going to fine_ , they try to assure him, and one time he almost attacks Aranea. _Didn’t mean to do that_ , is what he stutters out at the time, and the woman raises an eyebrow, distinctly unimpressed.

 _Whoever you’re hung up about, they’re not worth the danger you’re putting yourself in_ , is what she says to him. _Get your princely ass into gear, pretty boy._

Only it’s not Gladio. Gladio will be fine. He has to be fine, otherwise Noct won’t know what to do (and he was, wasn’t he? He’s standing here in front of them now, just as alive as he was before). But Luna— Luna is weak, she is so tired, how will she even be able to go on, and Noct’s usually tired with all the multitasking he has to do anyway. The sheer pain and exhaustion emanating from Luna is incredible, and sometimes Noct can’t do anything as well. Her pain, although purely physical in origin, translates to mental fatigue and Noct sometimes struggles to move his body. It takes him a while to realize that the pain isn’t actually coming from him, his arms and legs and stomach don’t ache, but they feel like they do.

But it’s only a little longer, Noct tells himself. Only a little longer before he won’t have to worry about this anymore, only a little longer until—

(She dies?)

Brushing himself out his thoughts, Noct informs Gladio of everything that’s happened while he was gone. “... Oh, and the chancellor found us again.”

“So it wasn’t the coin?” Gladio asks.

“We’re not sure,” Ignis says. “It may very well been, and in this case he simply knew that we would need mythril to travel to the other continent. Either way, he was not particularly informative.”

He really hadn’t said anything provoking like he had before, simply led them to Aranea in a very forthcoming manner, rambling about nothing in particular. It’s as if he had already said everything he wanted to Noct.

Noct genuinely doesn’t know what Ardyn Izunia is planning. That he represents a threat is obvious, but Noct doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be guarding himself against.

On another note, Gladio has new scars. One lines his forehead, and the other a huge gash across his chest. He honestly doesn’t seem bothered by them, even a little proud maybe. “You should see the other guy,” He laughs to them, and Noct really isn’t all that mad or concerned about it. If Gladio says the wounds don’t bother him, that they aren’t a blow to his mental psyche or his physical ability, then he doesn’t care.

“I give my Royal Mark of Approval,” Noct says, after examining them for a moment. “I can’t say they’re really all that hot, but they’re not bad, as far as fashion choices go. Also, Ignis, Prompto— if Gladio can look proud of the fact that he almost got himself sliced into two, you all can stop complaining about how I keep accidentally attacking you.”

(Later, when they’re alone, Noct asks Gladio if he found what he was looking for. Noct’s not quite sure what Gladio did, but it sure as heck seemed violent.

Gladio looks thoughtful for a moment. “I think I did.”

“And what was it?” Noct presses. “That you found, I mean.”

“... I want to say peace,” Gladio admits. “To move on. Life happens, and sometimes you just need to suck it up and keep going. You know me, I just tried to get the anger out of my system by beating monsters up. But it wasn’t like that.

“I didn’t find peace,” He repeats. “But I found something else.”

“You’re not going to tell me what it was, are you?”

Gladio ruffles his hair affectionately. “Nope.”)

He also seems to gone on a Cup Noodle craze while he was by himself, and Gladio actually drags them on a very wild adventure to kill a behemoth while they’re waiting for the ore to be refined. They take its flesh and put it into one of those godforsaken instant ramen cups.

“If you like it so much, why don’t you marry it?” Noct asks grumpily that night, while Prompto tries his best to slurp the noodles as loudly and obnoxiously as he can. Honestly, Gladio has the strangest tastes.

“Well, I might like you just a bit more than Cup Noodle,” Gladio responds easily, the fondness clear in his gaze. In the red glow of campfire, he looks resplendently glorious and kind and free and everything and anything Noct’s ever wanted out of anyone, and he realizes, yet again, that he really had missed Gladio while he was gone.

“Love you too.”

* * *

When they return to Cape Caem, Cor is waiting for them. He’s seated himself on a couch, Cid standing beside him. They both look up when Noct and the others clamber down, his father’s boat bobbing up and down gently at the harbor beside them.

“Your Highness,” Cor greets, the ever present incriminating sword-that-shouldn’t-be-there at his side. Cid snorts and grumbles a little, brushing some of the dust of his pants.

“Altissia,” Cid grumbles. “Only been there once, with Reggie and the lot. Stayed a good time, though.”

“‘The lot?’” Prompto questions.

Cid is quiet for a moment, and Noct looks to him in renewed interest. He’d known that his dad had once visited Altissia when he was young, but there’s something else tickling at him, what was it…

Cid glances at him, catches his troubles expression. “I know what yer thinking,” He growls at Noct. “Wonderin’ if we ever got to meet the _other_ Reggie, eh?”

Noct really shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Cid is a lot smarter than his prickly exterior implies. Of course he knew about it. And if he’s saying this now, then the marshal knows as well.

“I met ‘im,” Cid says, and everyone practically leans forward to listen. “He was a tipster at a popular bar. Looking back, Reggie seemed awfully excited to visit. No one questioned it though, ‘cause it was the first time we went out of Lucis. Yer father, the other him, he greeted us when we came in, and he seemed near tears. We all thought, ‘Well, must be cause Reggie’s royalty.’ Never expected otherwise.

“We didn’t find out though,” Cid continues darkly. “Not until he died, that is.”

Ignis takes a sharp breath. “What happened?”

“It was an accident. No one’s fault. Reggie was off at the first secretary’s office, and we were hangin’ around the bar, waiting for him to be done. One of our guys, Weskham— that’s the one y’all are gonna see in Altissia now, by the way— he stumbled just a little, just enough teh fall into harm’s way. Yer dad, the bartender, he pushed Weskham out of the way, and ended up dying fer it.”

Cid’s words are purposefully vague, as if he doesn’t wish to think of the details. Noct can’t blame him.

“Yer old man didn’t regret it, though. Sure, he cried like a baby and it was terrible, but not once did he regret it. Saving Weskham, he always said, was more than enough.” Cid’s voice becomes softer, a tinge of misery comes through. “I never did forgive Reggie though, for not telling us who he was until after he was long gone and dead. After we split ways, I didn’t see him once. Shoulda just let it go when I had the chance.”

“You didn’t know,” Noct says just as quietly. “You couldn’t have known.”

“That’s right,” And Cid jerks his thumb over at Cor. “Tell it to him. Can’t seem to let his guilt go, this idiot.”

“Cid, it’s very much more complicated than you think it is,” Cor starts, and Cid holds up his hand for him to stop, his voice harsh.

“It darn isn’t!” He says. “Quit blamin’ yerself. You did all you could. It was the empire’s fault, and let’s leave it at that.”

“The empire’s fault,” Cor repeats dully, and he doesn’t sound convinced, then turns his eyes to Noct. “Bear me no mind. Safe travels, and may you succeed in reclaiming your throne. If there’s any way I can help, just ask.”

Cor looks tired, like he always does. There’s guilt hanging on him, more so than when Noct last saw him— or maybe the marshal had just hid it better. It just lingers in the air, and Noct thinks, he can’t be a traitor. Not when he looks like this.

“As you continue your journey, things will become clear in time,” Cor tells them. “It’s probably a jumble of facts and hints at this point, but know that everything will make sense eventually.”

He bids them farewell, and as him, Iris, and Talcott wave to them goodbye as the group finally sets off to Altissia, Noct can’t help but think that Cor may not be a turncoat, but not all is as it seems.

Well, the marshal couldn’t have said it better. Maybe it really will come clear in time.

* * *

They have a week before the ceremony.

Here’s how Noct figures it: Luna is going to die. He can’t stop that, and she can’t either. But if it must happen, then she might as well leave the way she wants to.

After the Hydraean, they will be traveling together. By that point, there is quite literally no point in maintaining all the secrecy and mystery any longer. The entire objective of having two identities was to guarantee the safety of at least one, and seeing as Noct and Luna are going to be in the same place at the same time (not to mention that the chancellor already knows of their situation), it’s not going to matter now if the others know.

More importantly, this is Luna’s last chance. It really won’t matter if she’s already dead, after all.

Secretary Claustra shakes her head, a firm no when Noct asks to see Luna. The Oracle will not be accepting any visitors until the day of the ceremony, she informs them, and Noct wonders just what Ravus had said to the secretary to convince her to let him through.

But here’s also how Noct figures it: if he’s going to tell the others, he might as well do it dramatically. With Luna present and there, for the first time ever.

And really, it shouldn’t matter, because Luna is Noct and she sees whatever he sees and she does what he does. He can just say, _So I’m actually the Oracle,_ and technically, she will have said it too. But if it was all about technicalities, it wouldn’t matter what would happen to Luna. Because she’d still be alive, wouldn’t she be, if Noct is still alive?

(It doesn’t work like that.)

So he’ll wait. Bide his time until after the ceremony.

He has a week until then.

Noct takes Gladio to see Luna’s wedding dress, which is currently on display as a celebration of the Oracle’s safe arrival to Altissia. It’s just as pretty as it was before, and Noct looks at it with such wide eyes Gladio starts laughing.

“Starting to regret that your wedding was cancelled?” He asks teasingly, and Noct rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that,” He says back. “Just… look at it. It’s so _nice._ Did you know it was designed by _the_ Vivienne Westwood? She’s fantastic. Her clothing lines are just absolutely amazing, and— and— I don’t know. I just really, really like it.”

Even more than its actual design, how can he explain its symbolic significance, how closely it represents hope? It’s a dress made for celebration, for peace. It was a chance for Luna to meet Ignis, Prompto, Gladio. The marriage had never gone through, but still, that chance is upon them once again, just as the dress makes its reappearance.

“It’s getting dark,” Gladio notes, and he smiles conspiratorially at Noct. “Wanna take a quick stop at the Arena before dinner?”

Noct grins wildly and strikes a pose. “Sharp erryday, am I right? We’ll go back to the Maagho to eat after a few rounds.”

Totomostro is one of the best parts of Altissia, in his opinion. Noct hadn’t realized he was such a big gambler, but he finds himself coming back to the Arena over and over again to place more bets. He likes to think he’s pretty good with using the horns as well, and he usually wins more than he loses. So they spend maybe an hour or so there, and then take the gondola back to the bar, where Weskham and the others are waiting for them.

(Here’s the tale of Weskham— When Noct first enters the Maagho, he bows low and deep, his deep voice rumbling, “Prince Noctis. It is good to see you after all these years. Last I knew, you were just a babe.”

He lets them take a look around the bar, quietly informing that it was this bar that Noct’s father owned.

“He had no living relatives,” Weskham tells him. “So once we all parted ways, I took to bartending. It was the least I could do, keep the Maagho thriving, after all your father had done for me. The bar hasn’t changed much in the past few decades, so much of it is as he left it.”

Nothing at the Maagho particularly strikes out at him, but there’s little things, a particular detail in the lighting or decoration that just makes him think of his father’s room back in Insomnia, how he had arranged his bookshelves and the flora decorating the walls. Noct wonders what his father would have been like, merely a tipster with a simpler life, with no politics and no need to fight. He hopes he was happy.

“Thank you for doing this,” He tells Weskham. “For keeping this alive.”

“Of course.” And he bows once again. “I would have done anything for him.”)

The eat the very, very expensive Maagho Lasagna for dinner, and Noct’s never been more grateful to hear Ignis’ snap of fingers and his triumphant cry of, “That’s it!” Because really, it was fantastic, but he’s really not sure how much more gil they can afford to spend on gourmet food of all things.

He spends some time fishing. He gambles some more. Gladio takes him to see the local theater, and they maybe have a romantic day out going to all the popular attractions for couples. Ignis successfully recreates the lasagna, and even manages to secure the royal suite of the Leville. Prompto shows him the most breathtaking shots of the city and orders a fifteen scoop gelato.

The days slip by like quicksand, and before Noct knows it, it’s time.

* * *

Breathe, Luna reminds herself. You have to look like everything is fine. The public does not need to know her current state of health. They have to support this wholeheartedly, and Luna needs to look perfectly well.

“Your trident will await you at the altar,” Secretary Claustra says, and she takes her leave. The imperial guards point their guns at her, and next to her Gentiana is silent, Pryna circling around her. The hour has come.

Luna walks out of the building for the first time in weeks, to the large crowd that’s gathered to hear her speak.

Near the back, Noct cranes his neck in vain, trying to catch a glimpse Luna. He ends up forcefully pushing past disgruntled Altissians, until he’s made his way closer to the podium.

Luna catches Noct’s eye.

Oh.

They’re so close, Luna thinks, and she almost feels like crying. She’s so close to what she wants. Just a little more. Just a little more.

She recites her speech, the words flowery and grand, but still from the heart. She means every word she says, and she knows that sentiment has been passed on when the crowd cheers for her, and Luna puts on a brave face and smiles back.

She steps down from the stage, and guards escort her to the edge of the city, where the altar has been set. Noct takes the long way around, following the airships that have started to load into the city.

Gentiana will not go up with her. Neither will Pryna. She looks at them questioningly, and Gentiana simply shakes her head. “It is not my right to interfere,” She says, her light accent slightly more pronounced than usual. “The Hydraean will not welcome the awakening, Oracle. Tread lightly.”

Luna gives a small nod.

And oh, Leviathan is so, so angry. She screams and quakes at Luna, because she, a mere mortal, dare call upon the goddess of the sea?

“The gods exist because _we_ exist,” Luna cries back. “You are our faith, and we are your power. Nothing can exist without the other.”

The Hydraean hisses. _Silence!_

“I will not be silenced!” Luna roars back. The Archaean had awed her, the Fulgarian had earned her respect with his wisdom. The Hydraean will be no different, is no different, but she will not be silenced by anyone. “Form a pact with the King of Kings, so he may do your bidding and destroy the darkness!”

 _The King of Kings?_ Leviathan thrashes slightly. _He shall be tested. If he is worthy, I will submit. If not, this city shall know my wrath._

“Then it shall be done,” Luna says, just as the hum of imperial dreadnoughts approach them. Noct glances up at the sky, and he curses. He’s not sure if he can beat them to the altar.

“Hey, Noct! I can get you closer!” Prompto shouts on the phone. “Just jump!”

As Prompto and Noct steer the hijacked imperial speargun closer, it’s clear that Leviathan won’t go down without a fight. He can’t really do much about the imperial reinforcements since he’s trying not to get killed, so he hopes they won’t bother the goddess too much.

His heart is beating wildly out of his chest, his clothing soaked and crouching on uneven ground. Noct gives a brief glance to the ground to reorient himself, the typhoon of a whirlpool still swirling around them, his grip slipping, and Luna sees it first, before he does— the Hydraean’s tail flipping to the side, and Noct can’t react in time. He’s thrown fifty feet back, hitting the cold pavement, hard.

Luna’s breath catches, and she realizes that there’s no way he can beat Leviathan like this. With Titan, Ignis and Prompto’s ingenuity with Blizzara magic had allowed him to pull through, and Ramuh’s trial had been a test of perseverance more than anything else.

She knows what she can do— there are ancient magics she can use to temporarily call upon the glaives of kings past, and she has the ring. Noct needs these, and she’s the one that has them. Luna’s ready to run to Noct, who’s within eye’s view, less than a minute’s run away, but the sound of footsteps behind her force her to stop in her tracks.

She feels like her body is about to explode, and everything is going haywire in panic. “You will not stop me,” Luna croaks out, not even bothering to turn around. She sounds more confident than she actually is.

The familiar oily laugh of Ardyn Izunia rings out, and steps in front of her. “I won’t?” He asks coyly, and his eyes slide down to the object in her right hand. “You hold the Ring of Lucii, my dear. What stops me from taking it?”

Ardyn will not stop her, because he wants this to happen. He wants Noct to defeat Leviathan, to forge the covenant. That was why he had let her meet with the Archaean without interference. And that is why he will let her do this.

Luna says so aloud, and Ardyn eyes her shrewdly, the smile on his face still in place. He considers her words.

“You know, you’re quite right,” The chancellor muses thoughtfully, and Luna shifts impatiently with the Hydraean’s roars behind her. “On second thought, why don’t you give it to him?”

He pulls out a knife and plunges it into her abdomen.

Luna screams, gasps, wheezes, and when he pulls it out of her she collapses, dropping her trident.

Ardyn crouches down to her level, his voice light and teasing. “Oh, my dear,” He laughs. “You are in quite a pickle, aren’t you?”

Luna can’t concentrate, she can barely breathe over the pain, and her dress grows sticky with blood under her fingers. “... Why?” She manages to get out, and her voice is hoarse and strained. She doesn’t understand. She had thought— she had thought he—

He laughs, and ever so tenderly cups her face. Then his expression darkens, and he bites out, “So I can rest.”

And she doesn’t understand what that means, won’t understand until weeks later, trapped once again in a nebula of the dreamscape, but at the very least, Luna looks at Ardyn and she sees what she’s always seen: darkness.

(Then again, she’s always known. He’s always been that way, shrouded with something malevolent that makes her look away. He’s not human. He can’t be human.)

None of this makes sense, and the bitter unfairness of it all leaves her dazed.

So even though she knows it’s futile, for Ardyn is something she will never be able to heal in the short time she has left, she gently grabs his arm and a familiar golden glow flickers though. Mimicking his persona, she smiles her kindest, warmest smile and tells him with as much sweet falseness as she can muster, “Then rest, Ardyn Izunia. Know peace.”

He backhands her.

Luna lies on the ground and she hears him say liltingly, “The gods really did tell you nothing at all, Lady Lunafreya.”

No, they didn’t, she silently agrees, and her vision is tilted, the world blurring ever so slightly, and by now the pain is almost numbing— she doesn’t have to think over it.

She faintly hears the whirring of a Niflheim airship, and with what strength she has left, she lifts her head off the ground to see Ardyn, shaking out the arm Luna attempted to heal (she hopes it burns), boarding the craft.

“I shall await you at Gralea, my dear,” Ardyn’s smooth voice carries over Leviathan’s roars. “Do try to be quick about it.” And then he is gone, leaving her slowly bleeding to death on the altar. He doesn’t even take the ring.

How fitting, Luna thinks blankly. That I’m going to die here; a sacrifice to the gods. In a daze, she carefully reaches for her trident and forces herself into an upright position. Her stomach stings.

Noct is still lying there, unable to move, so she does what she must. He rises with the help of her power, fights the Leviathan with a phantom ache in his abdomen, the Armiger swirling around him, and Luna slowly dying below. His mind is blank, his motions automatic. He can’t fight well, even with what Luna’s granted him.

And then when Noct falls, Luna is there to catch him. His body is unresponsive, unmoving, unconscious. Luna slips the Ring of Lucii into his pocket. She watches as the Archaean appears to the Chosen King’s aid and defeats the weakened Leviathan.

It’s grand, it’s terrible in an awe-inspiring sense (or maybe awe-inspiring in a terrible sense, Luna can’t think straight anymore) and the sleeping form of Noct next to her, of herself next to her, silent but still alive, yet Luna is dead but she wants to scream her heart out.

Tears spring up, and the ocean water sprays at her. An ugly sob bursts out.

I was always going to die, she thinks. I was always going to die. I was prepared. I was ready. I was ready for it.

But she wasn’t expecting it to be _now_ , right at this instant, dying from a knife wound instead of her paying the price of the covenant. She wasn’t supposed to die _here._

But now that it’s here, now that her body is numbing and she can no longer feel the weakness in her arms or the cold or the pain in her stomach, she can’t do it.

It is enough, she thinks. I have done enough.

She’s helped thousands, the people of Tenebrae adore her, the people of the empire and Lucis respect her as Oracle.

It is enough, she thinks. I had enough.

She had a loving mother and kind retainers. She likes the music from the Crown City Noct sends her, and dancing is always fun. Fashion is her forte. She had Gentiana, Umbra, Pryna—

(And a life of isolation, a life of loneliness, a life of her wanting to be Noct, with his ~~dead~~ father and a boyfriend and wonderful friends.)

It will do. It has to, because she has nothing else.

So when Luna is twenty-four years old, she dies alone and helpless, cradling Noct’s head in her arms, hoping that it, everything she was, everything she did, everything that she could have been and things she never will be, will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it isn't.
> 
> and it's frustrating, isn't it? it's infuriating, to try to change your fate but nothing happens, like it's already been set in stone. you try to live, you try to hope, but you fall in the end. you try to change the very premise of your story, and maybe that will make a difference.
> 
> maybe it will.


	14. Twenty, Yet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in fragments and then haphazardly stuck all of it together later, and i didn't proofread bc i am dead so if its confusing or there's sudden shifts in tone pls tell me
> 
> also there is now a small other thing attached to this verse called 'writers block af' check it out if ur interested

When ~~Luna~~ Noct is twenty ~~four~~ years old, ~~she~~ he wakes with a ring clenched in his hand and comes to the realization for the first time in twenty years, he sees only one thing at a time. That he has two arms, two ears, two eyes, two legs, and that he is the King of Lucis with a dead father and no siblings.

When he wakes, Umbra is lying beside him and he doesn’t know where Gentiana or Pryna are. His— her— their— the trident is gone.

When they wake, Ignis can no longer see. (Luna can’t, either.) It doesn’t look like his eyes will ever get better.

They never find the body— it had sunk beneath the waves. Noct can see it now, a body in a white dress falling to the depths below, into darkness, never to be found again. It is Prompto who tells him this, subdued and somber, and he’s not used to Prompto being the most informed. But he supposes that it makes some sort of convoluted sense, since Ignis is ~~blind~~ out of commision.

He doesn’t cry.

“During Leviathan’s rampage, there were a bunch of imperial ships that were evacuating civilians to safety, rather than attacking,” Prompto says. “People say that they saw Luna’s brother, Ravus, too. Apparently he was helping Altissians get away from the city.”

“Oh,” He replies dully.

“The empire found out,” Prompto continues, and his voice gets quieter. “The news… the news said that he’s gonna be executed for treason.”

“Oh,” He replies dully.

He doesn’t cry.

Secretary Claustra meets with him eventually, and she offers her sincere condolences for the death of the Oracle. “There will be a memorial service for her in a week,” She tells them, and although she maintains her usual no-nonsense tone, there’s a tinge of regret under there as well. “You are welcome to attend.”

“Alright,” He replies. “Ok.”

So he goes. The crowd is massive, and he sees people from Tenebrae there as well, here to pay their respects. There are bouquets and bouquets of sylleblossoms handed around, till they decorate every alleyway in the city. He sees grown men get on their knees and sob and sob and sob.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t even cry. Not once.

( _You do not cry,_ There is a lady that shouts at him. She’s dressed in black, her shawl covering her hair, her Tenebraean accent thick and angry. _You do not even cry, not even once? Not even for her? She gave her life for you, sacrificed everything for you, and you do not even cry for her?_

Gladio has to forcefully drag her away before she causes too much of a scene, and he only stares blankly at her angry face.

Whatever does she mean?)

Gladio looks at him sometimes, and he knows he doesn’t get it. None of them get it. He doesn’t even understand it anymore, either.

Gladio looks at them sometimes, and they knows he doesn’t get it because who was Luna? Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, a woman he’s met once in his life, maybe exchanged a few correspondences over the years. What has she ever meant to Noct? What did she ever mean to him?

Nothing. Everything. Something. Anything.

“I know it hurts,” He tells them, and his gruff voice is soft for the moment, the underlying confusion still there. It only grows as the days pass, until he no longer knows anything. “Just hang on. You have to get up, Noct, and move on. We have to go.”

We have to leave, Gladio tells them. Leave where? This memorial service? Altissia?

I shall await you in Gralea, my dear, Ardyn mocks him.

“Ok,” He replies dully. He doesn’t get up.

(But he doesn’t even _cry_. Not even once.)

He needs to tell Gladio. He needs to tell all of them, because there’s no point in hiding it all anymore. But his mouth is lead, his lips falter, he can barely make a sound. He’s frozen, and all Noct wants to do is close his eyes and sleep and sleep and sleep and never think about it again.

Who was Luna? Who is Noct? Luna, who was born and then simply _became_. Noct, who did not exist for the longest time. There was never Noct before, just Luna and Luna-as-Noct, and it took him eight years to really become someone. But Luna has always _been_ , and now she isn’t. 

How is he supposed to be Noct without her?

* * *

Eventually, he snaps.

The Accordan government helps them secure train tickets, and they’re on their way to Niflheim’s capital. They put them on the swaying train, Noct sitting with Umbra in his lap. Ignis, with his new, darkened sunglasses and shiny black cane and ugly, ugly, scar that now mars his face, looks outside the window as if he can actually see anything at all.

“The train’ll be stopping at Tenebrae before the capital,” Prompto breaks the silence awkwardly, his voice nervous. “We… might as well take a stop there, huh?”

“Not before we stop at Cartanica,” Ignis quietly interjects, and everyone, even Noct, looks at him in surprise. “One of the Royal Tombs is rumored to be in the mines.”

Noct wonders vaguely how Ignis can act so composed right now, without a hint of a waver in his voice. Prompto’s about to open his mouth, probably to ask if Ignis is really going to be able to do this, he—

“That’s it. What the hell is wrong with you?” Gladio growls from where he’s pacing up and down the aisle, and he finally stops to stand in front of Noct, who absentmindedly pats Umbra. “You need to get your fucking act together.”

Noct looks up, and he hasn’t seen Gladio this angry at him in a long time. “What?” He asks, looking up at him, his mouth forming the syllable slowly. Something inside him stirs.

“I know that she didn’t sacrifice her life for this. She wanted you to do your duty. Get your head out of your ass, Noct, Lady Lunafreya didn’t deserve to be stuck someone like you.”

Noct freezes. “Stop it,” He whispers harshly. “Stop it, Gladio.”

“Gladio, stop,” Ignis says sharply, and Prompto voices similar thoughts, but Gladio presses on. “Stop moping, Noct, and get on your feet like the man of royal blood you are. You don’t have time for this.” He turns to look at the others. “We’re not stopping in Tenebrae for this idiot’s sake.”

Noct is shaking, the ring clenched in his hand. “Y-You can’t do this,” He says through clenched teeth.

Gladio turns to look at him, and there is nothing but condescension in his eyes. “Yes I can.” He says easily. “What are you going to do about it?”

What is he going to do about it? What is he going to do about? He can’t not go— He has to go to Tenebrae— How could Gladio ever— he doesn’t understand— he needs to go there, where she lived— 

“I know that she believed in you,” Gladio spits out. “And aren’t you living up to it, _Your Majesty_? You’d prefer carrying that ring instead of wearing it? You’re just a _coward,_ snivelling to yourself and not giving a damn about anyone around you that’s worse off.”

It’s obvious that he’s talking about Ignis, and Noct snaps. “DON’T TELL ME WHAT SHE WOULD’VE WANTED!” He roars. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHE WANTED, WHAT SHE DREAMED OF— YOU HAVE NO DAMN CLUE ABOUT ANYTHING!”

“Guys, please stop fighting,” Prompto pleads, and even Ignis is trying to get up to intervene. Gladio hauls Noct up from his seat by the collar, Umbra jumping off his lap in alarm.

“It’s been _weeks_ , you spoiled son of a bitch,” Gladio hisses, and he lets go forcefully. “Grow up and _get over it_.”

“You don’t know anything,” Noct hisses. “You have NO FUCKING RIGHT to say anything! What do you know about what she would’ve wanted?! Luna didn’t want to die. Do you think she wanted any of this? You’re such a hypocritical piece of shit; how do you know she _believed in me_ — you haven’t even met her! You don’t know a single damn thing about her, and you never will. You’ll never meet her, you’ll never, ever, ever meet her— not ever, you hear me, not even if she wanted, if she wanted with all her might— and there was so much—”

His fists clench at his side, he looks down at the ground as hot tears finally start to fill his vision. Why did this happen to now? He’s not ready for this. He’s never going to be ready for this. 

“Noct! Ohmygod, he’s crying.” Prompto blurts out and comes to sit next him. “Noct, are you alright?”

“Gladio, I told you,” Ignis snaps. “You shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

But the world is fading in and out of focus, and Noct sits back down, only focusing on the hands in his lap. “I-I can’t do this,” He says blankly. “I can’t do this anymore. I cannot pretend like it was nothing. I am sorry, Gladio. I am very, very sorry.” 

He can see Gladio stiffen in the corner of his vision. Noct sniffs, wiping away tears and snot with an arm. “I didn’t wish to die,” He lets Luna say. Only it’s not Luna, is it? It’s just himself now, pretending to be someone he isn’t, the same way before there was Noct, there was simply Luna-as-Noct. “I just… had to do my duty, but I didn’t want to die.

“But now… now I am dead, and only Noct is left behind.” He finishes. He looks up at his friends, his lover, with luminous eyes. “But I did not want this.”

Ignis, ever so sharp, is the first to understand what exactly he means. “Your other body… you were Lady Lunafreya. That’s why you accepted the marriage proposal so easily, despite…” He tilts his head in Gladio’s direction, his meaning apparent.

Prompto gasps and looks at Noct. “You were…”

Noct buries his face in his hands. “Thank you for saving Pryna, Prompto,” He says quietly. Prompto flinches.

“Gladio, I’m sorry.” Noct’s voice cracks embarrassingly, and he can’t bear to look at anyone. “I am a coward. I should be worrying about Ignis, but instead I am here, stuck on the fact I will never be able to meet all of you, that I died when I was only twenty-four, and I have done nothing in my life that I wished to do, only what my duty called of me. It has to be enough, but it’s _not_. I wished to make memories with all of you, I wanted to visit the Crow’s Nest for the first time, I wanted to explore Altissia together, I _wanted_ so much that I did not get, and I should be satisfied with the life I received, but I’m not.”

“I wanted to meet you, Gladio.” Noct sobs. “I wanted you to see me and tell me I looked beautiful, prettier than any girl you had ever met. I wanted to kiss you with the body of a woman with blonde hair for the first time. I wanted you—”

Gladio’s strong arms suddenly hold him, and he stops rambling on wildly.

“Okay,” Gladio’s voice is rough, and he sounds shaken. “Okay. Noct, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Noct cries harder. “Me too,” He chokes out. “Me too, Gladio. I didn’t want to die.”

“I know, Noct. I know. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t want to die,” Noct sobs, and he buries himself into Gladio’s chest and lets himself cry all the way to Cartanica.

* * *

Here’s the thing.

It doesn’t matter that Luna is dead. By all means, she’s alive. There is only one soul in question, and it’s still alive, isn’t it? Maybe it would be better to compare her death to a severe body injury. When all of a sudden, Noct isn’t able to move half of his body anymore. The phantom pains, if he could even call it that, are what he can’t get past. It _hurts_.

But here’s the thing: it doesn’t work like that.

It’s complicated, needlessly convoluted, their relationship. Luna had been someone, and Noct is someone else. But at the same time, they are the same. Yet Noct is, and Luna isn’t.

Luna dies. If they were truly exactly the same, it wouldn’t have hurt. It can’t have, because Noct would have been exactly the same, and nothing would have been lost. But Luna was someone else, someone with her own life, and Noct will never get that back.

But they aren’t the same. That’s why Luna died, because _they weren’t the same_ , and she had to die.

How is he allowed to say that they are the same, yet not? He’s never thought about it, but now that Luna is gone, he thinks. He thinks, and he thinks, and finally he wonders, 

is there a difference between Noct and _me_?

* * *

When they reach Cartanica, no one really wants to go down into the quarry. No one is in any mental shape to fight, so they eat a small meal at the dining car, all them picking at their food. It’s not nearly as good as the food they’re used to, but they eat without complaint. 

Then all of a sudden, Ignis speaks up. “Would you mind if I took a short rest in the sleeper car before we head out? If you could take me there, Gladio.”

Gladio gives a short nod, and Noct can see it in his face that he realizes too late Ignis can’t see it. “Sure.” He takes Ignis’ arm, leads him down the hallway.

After they’re out of sight, it’s just Prompto and him sitting in silence.

Noct pokes a bit more at his peas. None of them have said much of anything, and Noct thinks his eyes might still be red. 

“So,” Prompto speaks up, and he can’t bear to look at Noct in the eye. “You’re— you were Lady Lunafreya.”

Noct looks up from his food, waiting for him to continue.

“I…” And Prompto makes himself look even smaller. “I r-really wanted to meet you, you know? I wanted to tell you… thanks. For everything.”

“I don’t remember ever…” Noct says slowly, carefully, and even to his own ears he doesn’t sound like himself. His voice is lighter, his accent isn’t entirely Lucian. He soundly ignores it for now, and continues onward. There was only thing Luna had ever done for Prompto. “Do you mean the camera? There’s no need to thank me for that. You helped Pryna, so it was a gift.”

(And Pryna, Pryna where is she? Umbra is right here, but Pryna—)

“Well for that too, but…” Prompto blushes. “For the letter. It, umm, really helped me.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. What had that letter even said? He’s long since forgotten.

“I…” And Prompto only looks more and more embarrassed. “I brought it with me, when I found out that we were gonna meet you. I thought, maybe if you didn’t recognize me, then I could just show it to you.” He pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, and he hands it to Noct.

When Noct unfolds it, pressing down the creases, he doesn’t see anything especially special about it. It’s just the generic thank yous that he vaguely remembers putting in, but then he looks down at the bottom of the page.

 _I hope you continue to be good friends with Noctis_ , it says, and Noct understands. He looks up in question, is this why you’ve done everything you’ve done, and Prompto, still red, nods.

“Just… thanks,” He says meekly. “You probably didn’t mean much, but it means a lot to me.”

And Noct manages a small smile, and he hands it back to Prompto. “Don’t worry about it.” And the fact of the matter is, he really hadn’t meant anything by it. He wants to tell Prompto that he didn’t do anything to help, that it was all just Prompto, but the weight of everything still weighs heavy on him, and he struggles to speak more than he has to.

Prompto takes another look at the letter, and he frowns. “Umm, also. How did you manage to hide your handwriting so well?”

“Luna wrote in cursive, Noct always writes in print,” Noct answers, and he also frowns. “I always write in print,” He corrects, and somehow that doesn’t sound right either. Not wanting to think about it, he hastily switches the subject. “On Pryna’s leg— you had a handkerchief with your name printed onto it. That’s why I knew it was you.”

“Oh, that? Haha, that was kinda weird, huh? It was a gift from my parents,” Prompto says, and he mumbles to himself. “I kept forgetting it…”

Forget what, his name? Whatever that means, Noct can’t help but look at Prompto gratefully. Despite everything, Prompto’s stayed. Out of all of them, he has the least reason to continue on. But he has, and whatever reason he might have, be it a letter Luna had written years ago, Noct’s never been more appreciative.

“Handkerchiefs aside, it’s… been really hard,” Noct admits, and he doesn’t need to elaborate. He resists the urge to wipe his face. “Thanks for being here for me. I just… I’m just having a tough time.”

“Where else would I be?” Prompto responds, his heart worn on his sleeve and the sentiment clear in his voice. “You, Gladio, Ignis— you’re all my best friends. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

“I don’t— I don’t—” And Noct’s voice cracks, and he doesn’t know what to do. He tells Prompto this. “I don’t know what to do. I just— don’t want to do this anymore.”

I want Luna back, he doesn’t say, and Prompto knows what he means, but he doesn’t understand.

“Please don’t think I’m being dumb,” Noct says. “I know that it doesn’t really matter, because just because I’m— just because she’s dead doesn’t mean I am, but it was something. She was something, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Prompto responds, and immediately corrects himself. “I mean, no, I don’t, but Lady Lunafreya… you weren’t nothing. You meant a lot to everyone. You still mean a lot to everyone.”

And he knows that. Noct remembers Altissia after Leviathan’s trial— purple and black in mourning and flowers. He knows that. You don’t even cry, the woman tells him.

(Get over it, Gladio tells him.)

Stop.

“I’m a little worried about the other two,” Noct says, and he stands up. “Especially Gladio. I’m pretty sure Ignis didn’t actually need to rest. Do you want to go check it out?”

So Prompto follows him down to the sleeping compartments. Noct’s not sure which one they’re in, until Ignis’ voice cuts through, sharp and angry.

“No.” Noct can hear him say. “No more excuses, Gladio. No more apologies, and no more pushing. That’s how you always are— when something doesn’t move, you push. If it still doesn’t, then you only push harder. You never realize that it’s not the answer.”

Feeling oddly like a child again, Noct crouches down next to the door with Prompto, and they begin to blatantly eavesdrop. Should we do something, Prompto mouths at him, and Noct shrugs helplessly.

“I know you didn’t understand,” Ignis continues, his voice softening just a bit. But the cadences and inflections of his words are still unusually pronounced, the way he always tries to enunciate when he wants his point to be clear. “None of us understood. In that situation, Noct’s grieving made no conceivable sense. I cannot blame you for that, I know. But we knew that he was in no state of mind to go on. And yet you pushed anyway, knowing the consequences.”

“Ignis—”

“You think you know best, and sometimes you don’t, Gladio. You have to learn to accept that. Sometimes you aren’t right.”

“I know. I know, I know. I messed up.”

“You’ve always disregarded my warnings. Even when he was younger, I would tell you, _he’s not ready_ , and you would simply reply _You’re underestimating him_. I’ll admit it, sometimes you were right. But this? You went too far. What did you even think deliberately goading him would lead to, for goodness sake. You need to make better decisions, because Noct holds both of us in high esteem, but you especially. More than that, we have long since passed the boundary between professionalism and affection. The closer you are to him, the more damage you do. You had no right to do as you did.

“And let this be a lesson for you,” Ignis says, and for the first time in his small tirade, his voice falters just a bit. “Our duty is to support and protect Noct. We never leave his side, physically or emotionally, unless circumstances force our hand. There will be no more ‘taking care of some business by yourself,’ understand? I’m counting on you, Gladio. Given my current state, I’m not sure how much more I can do.”

“You—” Gladio starts, stops, then begins again, his voice quiet. “We’re a mess, aren’t we? You can’t see, and I’m just a massive fuck up. Wonder how we got here.”

“We got us here,” Ignis says. “There’s nothing worth being pitied. All we can do is keep going.”

There’s a small lull in the conversation, and both Noct and Prompto hold their breath. Noct’s heart is beating fast. He knows he shouldn’t be listening to this. He knows that. But he can’t stop, because Ignis says quietly, “When Noct was a child, we thought he had some form of autism.”

“It was all rather strange,” Ignis continues. “The staff at the Citadel had brought it up to the king, yet he dismissed it easily after hearing our concerns. It made sense after I was fully informed of the situation, but Noct was an odd child. In some ways, he seemed far more intelligent than he should have been, yet sometimes he would struggle with the simplest of things. He had difficulty concentrating. Sometimes he would forget that he was conducting a conversation and wander off, only to return not long after, having realized his folly. Sometimes his responses were fragmented, and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. No one could follow his train of thought.”

And Noct thinks, maybe he hadn’t been so successful at hiding everything after all. As a kid, he probably just hadn’t noticed what a bad job he was doing. He probably often brought up things about Tenebrae that he shouldn’t have known about, and no one in the Citadel could answer him.

“Nevertheless, he was a charming child, if I may say so myself. His irritability and sarcasm later on, I think, were largely byproducts of The Incident. You first met him after that, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you never knew him before,” Ignis responds, and his voice is achingly sentimental. “Of course, he was just a child. We were both children. But he was always cheerful, intelligent, and I cared deeply for him. I still care for him.

“We are never going to have that child back,” Ignis says. “But I want Noct to be as close to that as he ever will be. It doesn’t matter who he is, who he was. Frankly, it doesn’t really matter what Lady Lunafreya was like. He’s Noct, and it is our duty to care for him. And you’re not allowed to forget that again, Gladio.”

“And Noct, Prompto,” Ignis adds dryly. “The two of you may as well come in.”

Prompto breathes in sharply and exchanges wide eyed looks with Noct, who slowly slides the door open. Somewhat sheepishly, the enter the compartment. Ignis almost looks amused. Gladio just looks… haunted.

“We didn’t mean to—” Prompto starts quickly, only to be interrupted.

“You most definitely did,” Ignis replies knowingly. “You two stood out there for at least a minute. I heard your footsteps, and they stopped in front of this compartment for quite a while.”

“You could—” Noct cuts himself off, looking at Ignis incredulously, then with a sort of admiration. He’s been crippled, handicapped, damaged. If Noct were him, he wouldn’t know what to do. But here Ignis is, adapting and surviving and learning to live with it. “You’re something else, Iggy. You’re really something else. How can you— How are you so—”

Ignis sighs, and he sounds very tired, the way Noct feels, the way everyone in this compartment probably feels. “I’m not anything, Noct,” He corrects him gently. “I know my limits. I know how I can be better. For me, that’s all there is to it. My responsibilities dictate what I must do, and eyesight or no, I will go on.”

* * *

Ignis shoos Prompto and Gladio out. Noct doesn’t look at Gladio. Gladio doesn’t look at him. 

They talk freely, for the first time in a long time, like they’re children again.

(“Tell me about your life in Tenebrae,” Ignis says, and he takes off his glasses, opens his eyes. They are green and glassy, unseeing. “Tell me about Lady Lunafreya.”

So Noct opens his mouth, and speaks.

He talks about the rolling hills and steep cliffs of Tenebrae, the floating islands and scenic landscape. He talks about life there, the different types of fashion and cuisine and people. He talks about his mother. He talks about being Oracle, and all the wonderful things that came out of it.

He talks about his brother, and all his strange facets and uncertainties. He talks about the loneliness that came with it all. He talks about he spent his days miserable and lethargic.

He talks about Noct. He talks about Luna. He doesn’t know how long he speaks, until his voice is hoarse and his eyes are stinging again.)

(“I could have healed you,” Noct tells Ignis desperately. “You didn’t have to be blind. But now you are, and I can’t stop that.” Not anymore.

“It’s not your fault,” Ignis says consolingly. “It has _never_ been your fault. All I hope,” He confesses, “Is that you do not turn me away. I am of no use to you now. I cannot cook. I cannot fight. More likely than not, I will drag you down. Nevertheless, I would like to continue onward with you all, to the end.”

“I’m not letting you leave, even if you wanted to,” Noct says back. “I don’t know how I could ever do this without you. You’ve always been here, and I’m not letting you leave now. Just do me a favor and— and stay alive.”)

(“I feel like we haven’t really talked to each other at all through all this,” Noct confesses. “I take you for granted too much, Iggy. You’re the absolute best, no argument about it.”

“Better than Gladio?” Ignis asks in amusement, and in a fit of humor Noct can’t seem to find very often anymore, he grins weakly and replies, “Gladio can suck my ass.”)

(Ignis says to Noct, “You need to speak with Gladio, eventually. You know that, yes?”

Noct nods mutely, then wonders how many more times he’ll make that mistake. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Focus, he tells himself. Gladio. “Yeah, I do.”)

(Ignis pushes up his darkened glasses. “And now— don’t think I can’t tell, Noct. You see me, and think, and you try to compare yourself to me. Don’t.”

Noct blinks. A sense of strangeness washes over him. How odd, he thinks. Wasn’t Ignis just talking with Gladio? No, no, they were eating together in the dining car. No, they’re in Altissia. No, they’ve been blockaded in Lucis. Ravus isn’t dead. His father is alive. Ignis isn’t blind. Niflheim hasn’t done anything to them. Then he blinks again, and he’s back where he used to be.

“I need to get my act together,” Noct says weakly. “I can’t just— I can’t just do this. Gladio’s right. I’m not— it’s impossible, I’m not going to be able to do anything like this. Everything’s fine. It has to be.”

“Gladio is wrong,” Ignis responds sharply. “You are not me. You cannot do what I do, because what I do will not work for you. Losing my eyesight cannot be compared to your loss, Noct.”

“I didn’t lose anything,” Noct protests, and he closes his eyes, trying to make himself believe it. “I’m still here, aren’t I? I still remember, and I’m still breathing, and I can still see. I still have everything.”

“I can’t pretend I understand,” Ignis says quietly. “And I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through. But you know as I do that that isn’t true. Lady Lunafreya is gone. Lord Ravus— your brother is gone. You’ve lost. You’ve _lost._ ”

He’s lost. What does that even mean, at this point— Noct has lost them, Luna and Ravus, his last links to everything Noct couldn’t have, or he’s lost, confused and not finding the right path, or he’s just lost, lost this game he and Ardyn Izunia are playing because he’s never known the rules to begin with.)

(“Ravus, he…” Noct’s deliberately not thought about him, but he can’t just ignore it forever. It’s so easy to pretend that there’s nothing wrong, that Ravus is just being the asshole he’s always been, still with the empire. But he was helping civilians evacuate, Prompto tells him. And now he’s dead. He’s gone. As quick as that, as sudden as that, he will never see Ravus again.

“I never should have told him,” Noct says. He never should have told Ravus about him and Luna. Maybe he’d still be alive.

What scares him more is the sort of easy acceptance of it all. Noct doesn’t try to deny it. Ravus is never coming back. It’s like— it’s like it’s happened so often, Noct can do nothing but accept. The world takes and takes, and Noct had tried to pull back, but now he opens his arms to make it easier, and maybe it will hurt less.)

He doesn’t know how they’re in there, inside that small, cramped compartment. It feels like minutes. It feels like seconds. It feels like hours. But eventually, Noct’s eyes begin to droop and he stifles a yawn. He doesn’t know how, but Ignis seems to catch on.

With a gentle force, Ignis pushes him down onto the mattress. “Rest, Noct,” He says in his own considerate way. “We will start again tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready. But for now, in this hour, close your eyes.”

Sometimes, when they were children, Ignis would be the one to tuck him into bed when his father was too busy, and his wet nurse otherwise occupied. He’d read a few stories, entertain Noct. Sometimes he’d asleep before Noct on accident, and Noct would wiggle over to side, leave some space for Ignis and they would sleep together.

Noct wants that back.

Instead, he grabs Ignis’ hand. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready,” He says in a small voice.

“Then what do you want to do, Noct?”

Noct swallows hard, and he has no idea how to answer that. A wave of homesickness crashes upon him, and he thinks, just a year ago, they were all living happily in Insomnia, going about their lives, the war far and distant. A year ago, he was sitting at home. A year ago, _she_ was still in Tenebrae, performing her duties, living her life.

“I want to go _home_ ,” Noct ends up saying plaintively. He wants to see his apartment again, play a few video games, go to his part time job. He wants to go back to Tenebrae and never leave, hide himself in the manor and the gardens and never come out. But he can’t. Insomnia is long gone, and he can’t stay in Tenebrae, not as Noct. He has no right.

He wants to see his father again. He wants to see his mother again. He wants to see Ravus again. He doesn’t want to keep going. He’s not sure he can.

He wants things to go back to the way they were. But they never will. They’re on a speeding train, and they’re already in the dark tunnel. There is no stopping this. The only thing Noct can hope for is that they’ll get through alive.

Ignis strokes his hair, and Noct realizes that his hands are slightly shaky. He’s probably a lot more scared than he’s letting on, Noct thinks, and he just feels worse again.

“Just sleep, Noct.”

Sleep.

* * *

He’s not sure what he dreams of.

It’s twilight, in the waking dawn or setting sun, Noct doesn’t know, slipping between reality and imagination, the fantastical and dull.

In silence of the night, in the scorching heat of the mid-afternoon, he finds Gladio.

His eyes, reflected in the light at an odd angle, unnaturally bright in the still darkness, are almost golden. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to.

In the haze, Noct reaches out to him.

Gladio, he chants. Gladio, Gladio, Gladio. Don’t leave me behind.

He takes Noct’s hand. He kneels down low, kisses it.

I would never, he says, and then Noct is lost again in slumber.

(By morning, he realizes that it might not have been a dream after all.)

* * *

Gladio likes waffles.

Noct pauses, then realizes that he doesn’t have waffles. As a matter a fact, there’s really no point in thinking about waffles at all. Why is he thinking about waffles?

There’s dim light pulsing through the curtain, and everyone still appears to be asleep. Then Noct realizes that he’s on the wrong bed. On the upper bunks lay Ignis and Prompto (who thought it would be a good idea to give the blind man the upper bed) so this must be—

He’s not here.

Noct slips into his well-worn boots, silently pulling open the compartment doors, looks up and down the hallway. He wanders into the dining car, then out into the station.

He finds Gladio near the elevator that goes down into the quarry. He’s looking down beyond the railing.

“Hey,” Gladio says, without turning around. “So you’re up.”

Without fanfare, Noct tells him quietly, “I was there when your dad died.”

To that, he turns, surprised. “It was Glauca. He had already been hit before I managed to get to the throne room. He was lying near the wall. I couldn’t tell whether he was still breathing or not.”

Gladio blinks rapidly, then sighs and shakes his head. “You were there, huh.”

“I had to leave him behind,” Noct says distantly. The same way he had left Ravus grasping his arm on floor, left Luna on the altar. “I hope you don’t blame me for it.”

Gladio leads him closer and closer. “Of course I don’t blame you. Astrals, Noct, I’m sorry alright? What I said on the way here— I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated, and being an ass.”

The corners of his lips twitch up. “I know that,” Noct says, and his hands wander over to Gladio’s hips, to his back. “And I’m sorry that I yelled at you too. I don’t think either of us were really mad at each other. It’s just— been tiring, is all. Also, Iggy roasted you pretty hard, and that’s punishment in its own right.”

All of yesterday had been terrible. Last night was especially horrible.. Noct can still feel the clenching feeling in his gut, but somehow the early morning sun and idyllic silence and low chatter of the station have quieted the feeling somewhat.

He still doesn’t know what he wants to do. You’re lost, Ignis had said. But he can’t go back. He’s already made his decision, and there is no other choice anymore.

Gladio doesn’t really have anything to say in response, and for a while they’re both content to lean into each other, until Noct asks quietly, “Did you really kiss my hand last night?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“And you’re a baby,” Gladio replies fondly.

“You’re not allowed to use that line anymore; I am literally older than you.” Noct says snappishly. “Also, I’m really craving waffles.”

* * *

They enter the quarry, and the moment they reach the first group of Gurangatch, Noct realizes something is wrong.

They haven’t fought in weeks, and all of them gather around Ignis, because they’re rusty anyways and they don’t want him to get hurt.

Prompto raises his gun. Gladio hefts his greatsword. Ignis pulls out his daggers.

But Noct, Noct, Noct materializes his blade, and quick as flash, he warp strikes to the first creature. It’s downed in seconds, and he switches to a lance when the next one slips through the murky water, towards him.

His Armiger builds in no time, and before long he’s just attacking furiously, flitting around the battlefield in flashes of blue. It’s soon over and done, and both Gladio and Prompto look to him with expressions of shock and surprise.

“Woah, Noct, I think you took out like, more than half of them,” Prompto says, sounding impressed.

“That’s probably the best I’ve ever seen you fight,” Gladio comments, and Noct laughs helplessly.

“Is it always like this?” He wonders aloud, and the adrenaline is still pulsing through him. He lets out a few more giggles. “For you guys, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Ignis asks.

“Is it always so _easy_?” Noct says, and he really doesn’t want to break down again. His eyes are sparkling from mirth (or is he crying again, he doesn’t know). “I didn’t know it was supposed to be so easy. Why is it so easy? It’s not fair. It was so much easier and better. Is this what it’s supposed to be like?”

He can aim more accurately, he can think faster, he can hit harder. He doesn’t need to try and push out unnecessary details, and he doesn’t need to hyperfocus on two things at once.

“I thought it was harder than this,” Noct repeats aimlessly, and his entire body shakes, his voice choked up from laughing. “I genuinely, genuinely thought it was harder.”

It’s so right, righter than it’s ever been, and for that it must be wrong. He realizes how much more comfortable and natural it is to take longer strides, adjust his gait. He starts to change how he runs. They’re all small things, but the differences leave him unbalanced and stumbling.

He spends too long looking around himself, looking at the way the sun catches on the water, because Luna _sees_ differently. Noct notices too many details, misses the fluctuations of color in the waters and flora. Knowing all of this, feeling all of this, is almost too much.

They get to the Royal Tomb, defeat the Malboro, and leave as fast as they can.

* * *

“Are you feeling better?” Ignis asks Noct when they reboard the train, who shrugs in response. “There’s something you ought to know.” He informs Noct of the shortening days and longer nights. There’s only the slightest pause when he mentions how the process has been speeding up ever since Luna’s passing. 

“And no one knows what’s causing it?”

“No,” Ignis confirms, and then, “I had assumed that you would have known, considering your communication with the Six.”

The gods really did tell you nothing at all, Lady Lunafreya, Ardyn taunts him, and Noct flinches. “No,” He says shortly, and with more ice than is appropriate, he adds, “I don’t know _shit._ ”

Almost as if it’s a warning, the ring in his pocket presses into his leg. The Crystal, the ring, the gods. The covenant. Ardyn Izunia.

“I never told you, did I,” Noct says. “How I— how she died.”

“I was told that the chancellor intervened halfway through the trial. Was I misinformed?” Ignis asks cautiously.

“Oh it was the chancellor alright,” Noct mutters. His hands shake. “It just— it’s a lot more complicated than that. I— Luna was always going to die. It was the price for the covenant. Agh, that’s not the point. Ardyn let me— let Luna through to meet the Archaean. He knew, too, that I was Luna, and I still don’t get how. I thought he wanted me to— I don’t know, I thought he was letting me meet with all of them. But then he just,” Noct mimes a stabbing motion, and winces as he realizes, once again, that his little performance meets no audience. “Yeah.”

“You were going to die,” Ignis repeats flatly, stuck on the first few sentences of Noct’s scrambled explanation. “No matter what?”

“Not the point I’m trying to make right now, Iggy.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “We’ll discuss that at a later date. For now, the chancellor. His motives are unknown, and we can most definitely cross off any notion of him being an ally. Any sight of him, and we immediately alert each other. Understand?”

“... Yeah.”

“Now that the Oracle is gone,” Ignis starts the new subject delicately. “Do you know of the situation with the remaining Astrals?”

Noct frowns, and this is what doesn’t make sense. Ardyn had wanted Luna to awaken the Six, so why had he killed her before she had finished doing so? Was there something different with the remaining three Astrals?

Think, Noct. Think, think, think. Maybe he was aiming for something else. No, no, there was no other reason to allow Luna into the Disc of Cauthess. What is it, what is it— 

“Oh,” Noct blinks rapidly in surprise. “I get it now.”

“What?”

“The last three— Ifrit, Shiva, and Bahamut,” Noct elaborates, “They’re sort of special cases. Ifrit, I probably won’t be able to form a pact with for obvious reasons. And unlike the others, Shiva and Bahamut aren’t necessarily slumbering. I think Gentiana’s always implied that they’re taking an active role in shaping events, although no one really knows what and no one knows where. But it’s the Draconian, the leader of the Six, and the Glacian, who's known for her compassion towards humans. They don’t need the Oracle to convince them to do anything, because they already know it’s necessary.

“The king of the prophecy just… didn’t need the Oracle anymore, so he killed her.” Noct finishes with horrible certainty. (Even more so than that, Luna was an active threat. Noct hasn’t forgotten the way Ardyn had reacted to her touch, as if it would destroy him.)

Gladio comes striding in, then leaves quickly, taking Ignis with him. Something about questioning some passengers, and Noct is left alone.

He finds himself strangely enraptured by the passing landscape. The lands of Niflheim seem to hold their own majesty, bleak and expansive. He’s seen all this before, on his way to Altissia, but the sand and the snow of the jagged cliffs are just as bold and imposing as they were the first time. The lighting is odd, though. It’s early afternoon, and yet the sun is already setting. This must have been what Ignis had meant. The falling light sets a hazy glow onto the mountaintops, the sand sticking to the windowpane.

This is the end of days.

Someone touches his shoulder. “Hey,” Prompto says. “Isn’t that a sight?” He takes a seat next to Noct. “I’ve always wondered how that was even possible.”

Vaguely amused, Noct turns to him. “Isn’t this your cue to start taking pictures like a maniac?”

Only for some reason, Prompto doesn’t take out his camera. When Noct looks at him, he realizes that the aforementioned device on him.

Prompto looks at him fondly, but somehow Noct can’t help but think something is off. “Oh, Noct, that’s hilarious.” He laughs, and adds, “I can call you Noct, right?”

“What?” Prompto’s been calling him that for years, everyone calls him that. “Prompto, stop messing around.”

“I’m not messing around, Noct,” Prompto tells him earnestly. “It’s just that you’re such a fool.” And that’s definitely something Prompto would never say. 

Slowly, Noct turns around. “Who are you?” What the hell is going on?

“Wrong question,” Prompto grins, and he puts his hands in his pockets. It’s such a familiar action, but Prompto’s back is too straight and his smile is too loose. There’s just something off, and Noct narrows his eyes. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

The way he speaks sounds wrong. It’s passable, but somehow his enunciations seem different, his words have a bit of an accent, language a little too elevated for Prompto’s casual speech.

“The right one to ask is how long I’ve been here, and how long your little sharpshooter has been missing, _my dear_.”

And Ardyn Izunia laughs at Noct’s horrified expression. “You hadn’t even noticed, had you?” He keeps Prompto’s face, his laughing eyes friendly. “You know, I had been entertaining a thought. I thought, perhaps, I could fool you into thinking that dear Prompto was working for me. But even I am not so cruel as to turn such close friends against one another.”

(What a fucking liar.)

Noct realizes with sudden clarity that he can’t get out. Prompto— Ardyn sits next to him, blocking the aisleway. Something tells him that he can’t beat him in a fight.

“You know, if you had been Lady Lunafreya, you would have been able to know I wasn’t him,” Ardyn tells him softly. “You could feel it as her, could you not? Just what lies beneath my skin. But you are not the Oracle, my dear,” And Prompto’s face stretches into a pleased, vindictive smile that Noct can’t understand. “You were never her, and you were never Noct either.”

And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Heart beating fast, Noct looks at his murderer and, eyes flashing, and then—

A loud boom shakes the entire train, and Noct jerks in surprise. Someone screams. Outside, somehow, (how?) imperial airships have appeared. Shock troopers line the tracks. It’s obvious that their aim is to destroy the train.

“You would attack your own citizens just to kill me?” Noct hisses at Ardyn. He’s absolutely terrified, and he’s gotten used to masking that fear as rage. “You fucking coward, I’m right here!”

Then Ardyn snaps his fingers, and the world freezes. The passengers are unmoving. Color is swallowed. It’s like they’re in a vacuum of nothing.

“Make no mistake, my dear,” Ardyn tuts, and Prompto’s eyes narrow. “The reinforcements are not my attempts to kill you. Rather, they are a threat. You have two choices. Come with me, and I shall return Prompto to you. Try to save the train, and I cannot guarantee his safety.”

He holds out his hand, an invitation. But Noct knows the implications of whatever he chooses. He goes with Ardyn, and Prompto may be saved. His word doesn’t mean much, but still, it’s something. Everyone on this train dies. He defends the train, and the civilians will be saved, but Prompto…

“Why are you doing this?” Noct asks him helplessly.

“Oh, this one is for my personal enjoyment,” Ardyn replies, amused. “I just love seeing you struggle, my dear. Well, that is besides the point. What is your answer?”

Noct hesitates, then hesitates some more, but they both already know what he will say.

Noct is not a cruel person. He has never thought of himself sadistic, or irrational. Prompto, or civilians? These people may not be his own, not his to protect, but still. It’s his responsibility as a king and a person, isn’t it? These civilians, who’ve done nothing wrong, will not die because of him. Or Prompto, the kindest, a cheerful soul, who’s done so much for him and others and one of his best friends. He wouldn’t trade him for the world. His best friend, or civilians? His personal responsibilities, or his royal duties?

Everything around them is still suspended in time. Prompto looks at him tauntingly, asking him, are you really willing to sacrifice me? I, who have done so much to help you?

Noct closes his eyes.

He’s left so many people behind.

“I will protect this train.” He replies finally, the words laying heavy on his tongue. “You won’t harm any of them.”

(He’s left so many behind. What’s one more?)

Ardyn tilts his head. He smiles, an odd light in his eye. In an instant, time restarts and color returns. The chaos around them resumes, and Noct bolts to the exit, warp striking to the nearest MT, fumbling with his phone as he tries to call Ignis and Gladio. But Ardyn’s last words echo and rebound in his head.

I’m not, he thinks fiercely, and it sounds weak even in his mind. It’s not true.

“Oh, my dear,” Ardyn says. “I had never thought you so cruel.”

* * *

And then they’re in Tenebrae.

Through no small amount of luck, the battered train screeches into the station, night already set.

Tenebrae.

Ignis and Gladio had managed to get the train running before it had been completely destroyed, but not long after, night had crept in, and Noct had been forced to fight off the encroaching daemons.

But it’s fine now. They’re in Tenebrae. All the civilians are unloaded, taking refuge at the station for the night. Most have food with them. Noct sees children, mostly unhurt, sobbing quietly while their parents try to comfort them with meaningless words and phrases.

But it’s _Tenebrae._

“Noct!” Gladio is running towards him, his expression openly panicked. He places his hands on Noct’s shoulders, grounding him there. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Noct whispers. “Just— Just let me—” He takes deep breaths. “The passengers are all ok?”

“A few are injured, but no one’s dead,” Gladio confirms, and watches Noct closely.

A beat, then, “I can’t believe I left Prompto behind,” Noct whispers. “What was I thinking?”

“You did the right thing,” Gladio assures him, and somehow his words sound far more comforting than Noct’s own. “No one wanted this, Noct. You made the best out of a bad situation. We couldn’t have been sure that he would have given back Prompto either way.”

Then he flinches. “Holy shit, I think I accidentally just left Iggy by himself. Come on, let’s regroup.”

They find Ignis conversing with a familiar face at the other side of the station. “Hey, pretty boy,” Aranea Highwind greets, tossing her head. “Specs here updated me on the situation. I’ll take these civilians off your hands.”

“But aren’t you—”

“Defected. I’m a freelancer now. Consider this a favor; you all owe me one.”

She guides them to her subordinates, Biggs and Wedge, who she guarantees can get them to Gralea. “Gonna have to wait while we replace the damaged compartments though,” Wedge says, and Biggs adds, “And get ready for some mighty cold temperatures while we pass through Ghorovas Rift.”

And then they’re left to their own devices. Noct takes another deep breath, looks around warily.

The elegant, medieval, architecture of Tenebrae surrounds him. In the dim light, he can’t see much. But he doesn’t need to _see_ , he knows what it looks like. He knows how to reach the nearest tavern. He knows where the best food is. He knows the layout of the roads like the back of his hand. He knows— He knows how to go _home._

His legs take him down the path, past all the crowds of people, some crying, some carrying all their belongings with them, some simply just there, standing.

“If only Lady Lunafreya was still alive…”

“What will happen to us now?”

“My sister lives in Accordo, maybe we ought to move in with her for a while…”

Noct leads Ignis and Gladio over bridges, lit up and somber, past fields and arches, until they’re standing at the entrance of Fenestala Manor, the ancient house of the Oracle line. He knows that it had been badly damaged; the smoke could be seen from the train station. Niflheim forces had bombed it in response to the mutiny of the Tenebraean high commander. Up close, he can smell the fire.

Gladio shifts slightly. “Is this…”

“Where she lived.” A old voice answers, and they all turn around.

“Greetings, Prince Noctis,” The old woman bobs her head at him, and Noct realizes that it’s Maria, one of the retainers House Fleuret. “It is good to see you in good health. Last we met, you were such a sickly child.”

And there’s such a strong urge to respond in kind, with the same gentle tone and dialect as Maria, but Noct swallows whatever words Luna wants to say. He could tell her, he really could. But what good would it do? Noct _can’t_ be her. He can’t pretend to be something’s he’s not. He’s not the Oracle. The last time he was in Tenebrae, he was eight years old and couldn’t walk. He’s not even a woman, for Astral’s sake. _He’s not her._

So instead, he feigns a polite smile, the one he wears to political dinners that he’s forced to attend every few months. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t remember me,” Maria waves her hand dismissively. “But I have worked for House Fleuret my entire life, and there are things that must be said.”

Noct frowns, confused. What could she have to tell a foreign prince?

Maria takes a deep breath. “Lady Lunafreya,” The words come out in a rush. “You were there, were you not, at the altar? Tell me, at the very least, whether she succeeded in giving the ring to you.”

Noct closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now, of all things. “... Yes.”

“Good,” Maria sighs, shifts. “Oh, my Lady… She was always good to us, you know.”

Noct doesn’t answer.

“She was so happy,” Maria continues tearfully. “The day her wedding dress arrived— I will never forget the expression on her face when she tried it on for the first time.”

“Really?” Asks Noct hollowly.

“Oh, yes,” The retainer nods her head. “She was so dreadfully excited. Lady Lunafreya had such a passionate desire to meet you, Prince Noctis. She…” And Maria leans in closer, glancing around to make sure no one is else is around. “You shan’t tell anyone about this, understand? Right before she left for Altissia, Lady Lunafreya had a massive spat with Lord Ravus.”

Noct’s breath catches in surprise. He hadn’t realized that the servants had overheard their fight. Seeing his shock, she adds, “We didn’t dare listen in on all of it, of course, but their shouting was quite loud. But the fact of the matter is— well, at some point, both of them had started to cry.”

And Maria looks so eager for him to understand, but Noct isn’t getting it yet. “We heard her say, ‘Why can’t I see him?’ Over and over again. She was inconsolable. Don’t you see it? She loved you, Prince Noctis.”

“Oh,” Noct whispers, and Ignis and Gladio shift uncomfortably beside him. It’s not hard to figure out who it was really meant for. “I… see.”

“So?” Maria presses. “You loved her back, didn’t you? That is why you came here, to pay your respects.”

It’s such a laughable question, but the tears well up anyway, and Noct thinks to himself, did I love her? Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, did I love her?

What a silly, silly question.

“Yes,” He replies, choked back in tears. “Yes, I did.”

* * *

She tells them Pryna is dead. Gentiana is missing.

Noct doesn’t know what to _do_ with that knowledge, because Gentiana? Pryna? Her messengers, just, gone. Umbra is still here, coming and going, not tied to Noct the way he was to her. But the other two...

It’s as if the universe takes them away, saying, you’re not allowed to have this anymore, you can’t have this anymore because she’s dead, and you can’t take her place.

(Is that why they took Prompto too?)

“Now with both Lord Ravus and Lady Lunafreya gone, Tenebrae will most likely fall to ruin,” Maria says, and her voice is resigned. “People will move away, with the ruling family dead. The land of the Oracle is no more.”

“No,” Noct snaps. Of all things, that can’t happen. That absolutely must not happen. He’s tried so hard— Tenebrae has struggled its way through imperial rule for over a decade, so much of her time and effort was spent on this land, her land, her kingdom. “I won’t let that happen. I promise you, Maria, that I won’t let Tenebrae be forgotten. I will use all my power to restore this place to its former glory.”

Then he realizes that it’s perhaps a bit too passionate for someone from a foreign country, and he adds weakly, “For her.” He hangs his head, hoping it passes as sorrow.

“Prince Noctis,” And Maria looks astounded, her eyes welling up with tears again, bowing at him. “You are far too noble. To think your love would drive you so far to even save a kingdom from ruin.”

Her remarks leave Noct somewhere between bemused and uncomfortable, yet every mention of her, so close to home, just hits harder.

It’s almost of when she had gone to Insomnia for the first time. He keeps expecting everything to be the same as it always was, but her home charred, smoking, Gentiana and Pryna, her brother, the spreading darkness— it’s all too alien and unfamiliar.

But Maria is so impressed with them she offers to show them Lady Lunafreya’s room. According to her, that particular section of the manor hadn’t been damaged. She leads them to the servant’s entrance at the side, up spiralling staircases, the smell of smoke getting stronger and stronger, yet not overly pungent. It’s still a ways away.

Then he’s standing in front of a familiar set of doors, and Maria stands to the side, letting him open it. “I shall wait outside. I am sure you wish to would like to look around alone.”

“Actually,” Noct hedges uncomfortably. “Gladio, Ignis, can you come with me?”

The room is large, not unlike the bedroom Noct has in the Citadel. In the darkness, the garden outside can’t be clearly seen, and the birds, probably having long since fled from the attack, are silent. The floor is smooth marble. The bed is large, at the side. Rows of bookshelves line the adjacent wall. The air smells like flowers. This, at the very least, is the same.

He walks to her desk and writing stationery, mechanical pencils and quills scatter the surface. Noct knows there’s gel pens in one of the drawers. The gold one is out of ink.

“Is that…?” Gladio asks, and he points at some framed pictures in the corner. One of them shows the Fleuret family, Queen Sylva and her two children, young Ravus and Luna. How old had she been, Noct’s forgotten. The other, which Noct suspects Gladio is pointing to, is a familiar one. It’s a copy of one of Prompto’s photos from a few years back, depicting candid shot of Noct and Gladio. He still doesn’t know how he had managed to take it without them noticing.

Prompto. Noct swallows thickly.

“Yeah,” He says in response to Gladio’s question. “I thought it was a nice shot.” He quickly looks away, and he’s never felt the absence of the blond more.

And then all of a sudden, the aching familiarity of everything around them, the sentimental feeling in the air, is too much for Noct. He has too much to mourn, and not enough time. They’ll be setting out next morning, or whenever Biggs and Wedge finish preparations. He can’t stay here, in the room for the dead.

With a grunt, he pushes the desk to the side. Behind it lies a hidden compartment, which he opens with little care. The answer to not thinking, in his opinion, is alcohol. There’s a lot of alcohol in here. It’s the culmination of years of slowly sneaking all the highest quality wines from the basement of the manor. She had done it partly out of curiosity, if she could have gotten away with it, partly out of spite, partly just because she really, really wanted it.

He grabs the nearest bottle, then vanishes it into his inventory. Behind him, Gladio makes an odd choking sound. “Are you… stealing wine?”

“It’s not stealing if it already belonged to you,” Noct mutters, and he takes two more. Recklessly, he thinks, what’s one more? And so he reaches out to the next bottle.

“Noct, what precisely are you trying to achieve by taking such a large amount of alcohol?” Ignis asks him cautiously.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Noct turns around, and somehow, it feels like the most ridiculous thing he’s done in a long time. He’s stealing wine from himself. Alternatively, he’s stealing wine from the the deceased love of his life. He doesn’t care; he needs this. “We’re going to drink it.”

Yes.

And that’s what he does.

* * *

Within in hour, everything is hazy. Noct’s not quite sure what’s happening, but, well, that’s probably fine. Everything’s fine.

“Biology,” He mumbles, and he crawls over to where Gladio is. He’s very drunk. Ignis is similarly wasted. Gladio is not. As a matter a fact, he is very, very sober, and Noct needs to fix that. He tries to hand Gladio the bottle, but he thinks it might’ve just been his shoe.

“Biology?” Gladio asks him, his eyes patient and bemused.

“Biology,” Noctis agrees, and fiddles with Gladio’s hair. “It’s a life science. How to farm children.”

“Alright.” Gladio agrees easily enough. “Sure. Biology teaches you how to farm children.”

“Sex education is useful,” Noct mumbles. “They need to teach it before middle school. Gonna have to fix that.” Everything’s slightly fuzzy, and his mind wanders, and then a thought occurs to him, and he snaps straight up. He pokes Gladio insistently, who is now looking somewhat alarmed.

“Hey Gladdy,” He slurs. “If I married Luna and we had kids, would that be having sex or masturbation?”

“Holy fuck,” Gladio groans. “Noct, you’re drunk off your ass. Keep this up, and Ignis is going to implode.”

“I have an aneurysm,” Ignis speaks up pleasantly, and proceeds to stand up and trip over his own feet.

“I’d be fucking myself,” Noct says thoughtfully, and then he giggles. “Does that count as infidelity, Gladiooooo? I know you don’t believe in infidelity. I don’t believe in infidelity either. Is masturbation infidelity?”

“... And now you’re going to bed.” Gladio actually picks him up from the ground, and Noct puts his arms around his him so he can pretend Gladio is bridal carrying him to somewhere other than dreamland. 

“Let’s go to my wedding,” Noct says. “They tell me it’s in Altissia. I have to marry myself for the peace treaty to go through. I’m gonna have kids.”

“I fucking pity your children.”

“My children…” Noct narrows his eyes, and then, “ _I am my children._ ”

“What.”

“It’s biology,” Noct says, because children through masturbation is basically asexual reproduction, and he knows this stuff. If a child gets half of their genetic material from their mother and the other half through their father, and Noct and Luna are the same person, then he is his own child. It’s the only answer.

He doesn’t realize he’s said all this out loud until Gladio drops him onto a mattress, a little harder than he needs. “You are intolerable,” He tells Gladio. “In-tolahhhrable. My wife loves you too. So does my kid. I’m all of them, did you know?”

Gladio looks awfully pained, and Noct wonders why.

“I never noticed,” He says, ignoring Noct’s question. “But you sound a bit like _she_ must’ve sounded like when you’re wasted. It’s the accent.”

Noct struggles to understand, but he doesn’t get it. He stares at him blankly.

Gladio sighs. “She sounded wonderful,” He tells Noct. “I wish I could’ve met her. I see all these people, all mourning for her, for you, and I think—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to think.

“She had the same books you keep in your flat. I saw all that rock music you stuffed into those shelves. I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to get electronics to work. You even kept a photo of _us_. Astrals, I just— I just—” Gladio shakes his head, and Noct can only continue staring. Everything is foggy, and it’s hard to concentrate.

“It’s my job to fucking protect you,” Gladio says, aggrieved. “And I take my duty seriously. Maybe I didn’t know, maybe I wasn’t supposed to know. So what? I still failed, didn’t I? And I made you cry, and now Prompto’s kidnapped. But you—”

Gladio takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you’re dead,” He says finally. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything about it. It was an inexcusable blunder on my part.” He gives a little snort. “You don’t even get what I’m saying, do you? Probably for the best. Me and Ignis’ll keep it together for you. Don’t worry about us, Noct, you’ve got plenty of other things on your plate.”

At this point, Gladio is just blabbering nonsense, and Noct’s tired of listening to whatever he’s saying. He’s awfully sleepy too. He might as well close his eyes for a bit too.

The next thing he realizes, there’s an awfully bright light shining in his face, and Noct smashes a pillow to his face and gives a muffled scream.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Gladio says cheerfully. “It’s 3 in the afternoon, and we’re about to leave. Get your pretty ass out of bed.”

“Five more hours,” Noct mutters, and rolls over. His head is killing him. He also can’t remember anything that had happened last night. “I’m never going to drink again.”

“You say that every time,” Gladio says, unconcerned. In a swift move, he’s stolen Noct’s blankets and pillow. “Get moving; we’ve got to get to Gralea.”

Gralea? Noct blinks blearily, stumbling to his feet unsteadily, until he finally remembers where he is and why he is, and once again, a heavy weight crashes down upon him.

Gladio helps him out of the sleeping car, back out into the train station. Before Noct steps into the train, he looks back one more time.

It’s dim, alarmingly so. In the distance, the manor is still smoking. The sky is a dull red. There are still crowds of refugees all over.

I’ll be back, Noct promises no one, and he turns his back to it all.

* * *

Ghorovas Rift is freezing. They realize this too late, and when daemons begin to attack the train once again, they struggle to move in the frigid air. The fight is long and hard, and Prompto’s absence is felt keenly. In the distance, Shiva’s corpse stares at nothing. The wind howls.

The Deathclaw is an absolute terror. Afterward, Noct and the others are still gasping for breath. Somehow, even in this cold, he realizes that he’s sweating.

Twisting his head, he looks at the Glacian once again. It just feels wrong, to see an Astral just lying there, lifeless.

“You have a choice,” Ignis says softly. “Trek to the Glacian’s corpse, seek the covenant. Or, head directly to the imperial capital.”

“No,” Noct says. “I don’t have a choice. Gralea is our only option, Ignis. I’m not leaving Prompto there for any second longer than I have to.” (What if he’s already gone, he doesn’t say, because he can’t believe that.) Besides, the Glacian is, in a sense, dead. Without the Oracle, how is he ever supposed awaken her, much less receive her mark?

But he stands there longer than he should, staring at the colossal body, while Ignis and Gladio reboard the train. Finally, because he can’t quite shake off the feeling that he should do something, he hums the song of the stars, the one she had used commune with the other Astrals. 

The melody is weak and faltering, and nothing happens.

(Is it surprising that, for a second, he had really thought it would work?)

When he steps back into the compartment coach though, something is wrong.

A swish of clothing, and Noct sees a familiar scarf flutter around a corner, and he stops breathing. That’s the way Ignis and Gladio— 

Noct flings open the door, and an icy blast buffets him, snow swings in his face, harder and fiercer than outside.

“Ardyn!” He yells over the howling of the storm, and how is it even here? What is the chancellor doing? “Don’t touch them! _Where is Prompto?”_

The chancellor, for it is indeed the chancellor, no longer wearing anyone’s face but his own, gestures behind him, where Noct can see the fallen bodies of Ignis and Gladio.

“Don’t fret, my dear, they are not dead,” Ardyn says. “Just taking a small nap.”

Shivering, Noct takes one step forward at a time. The wind pushes him backwards, the cold presses him away, and his legs threaten to buckle.

When Luna is eight years old, she sees snow for the first time. It’s not a lot, less than an inch, she learns later, because snow in Tenebrae is not common. But during that short, fleeting time, she drags Ravus out with her to shriek and laugh as the cold little dots of white begin to cover up the ground. It’s so _cold_ , she thinks in fascination.

When (Luna-as-) Noct is eight years old, he is surrounded by flames and inching closer and closer to the line between life and death.

It’s so _cold_ , he thinks despairingly.

When Noct is twenty years old, she’s already dead and it’s cold, so cold. Ardyn stands, seemingly unaffected by the howling wind and the unnatural chill— the frost creeping up the seats, the snow blowing in their faces.

Past Ardyn, the sound of footsteps are suddenly heard, and Noct realizes that this storm isn’t coming from the chancellor— but rather, behind him.

“A coldness that can only be hers,” Ardyn comments, and Noct gasps and shudders. The Glacian. The Glacian. The Glacian.

The covenant— is she here for the covenant— the Glacian, the Glacian, Shiva, the Glacian. Only that’s not— that’s not—

Only it’s Gentiana, walking down the aisle in steady, measured steps. Gentiana, who no one has seen since Altissia. Gentiana, who Noct had thought dead.

“It’s been quite some time,” Ardyn greets her, as if they’ve known each other for quite some while. Only how could Gentiana have ever, ever, ever have met him, and where has she been all this time— “And you wear the same face, still.”

Only Gentiana doesn’t deign to respond, and with a simple touch to his lips— an ever gentle reminder to hush— the ice has encased him.

Ice— ice— ice and cold and Messengers and Astrals and— 

“You’re the Glacian,” Noct gasps through his chattering teeth. “Gentiana, you’re—”

And Gentiana walks towards him, and she smiles, the same mysterious smile she always gives. Only her features morph and change and her skin blue and her hair white but her smile, the same, always the same.

 _Well met, Oracle_ , says Shiva, and Luna’s trident materializes in her hands.

“Y-You never told me,” Noct whispers. “You never told me _anything._ ” Everything has been happening so fast, leaving him no time to process, and he’s left more and more bewildered. But it’s Shiva, and she’s known. Maybe all the Astrals have known. They know everything. He still knows nothing. He’s cold.

Shiva can see the despair in his eyes, but she merely holds the trident up to him. _It was always yours, O King of Kings,_ she tells him, and somehow, despite everything, there is affection in her voice. _All will be clear in time._

Gentiana has been with him his whole life, a constant companion through all that Luna has ever done, and now Shiva looks down at him with empty promises and a smile, and Noct takes the familiar weight of the trident of the Oracle and holds back tears as the wind quiets and the snow settles.

“Did you even care?” He asks her, and for moment she’s not the Glacian, not even a Messenger, she’s just someone who Luna’s cared for, because she’s always been there. “Knowing that I— that she was going to be gone, did it even _matter_ to you?”

She tips her head at him, cups his face with her freezing hands, placing a light kiss on his forehead. But she doesn’t answer him.

 _Bring back the light,_ she tells him instead, and then even quieter, _Fix our mistakes._

And then she is gone, leaving Noct with his trident. It’s like she was never there to begin with.

It’s so cold.

Noct slumps to the ground, still shaking. He reaches for Ignis and Gladio. “Hey,” He gasps. “Get up.”

They do so with a groan, Gladio shaking himself as he staggers upright, and Ignis taking a moment to reorient himself as best he can.

“The hell happened?” Gladio mutters, and then he catches sight of their surroundings. “Wait, is that…?”

“What?” Ignis asks.

“An ice sculpture with a remarkable resemblance to the chancellor,” Noct agrees, his voice still shaking, and stands up as well, albeit with some difficulty. “The Glacian was here for a bit.” Stumbling a little, he lurches forward, and with a viciousness he doesn’t quite feel, he impales Ardyn with the trident. The ice shatters into nothingness, and Noct drops his weapon.

“Is he dead?”

“Not sure,” Noct replies honestly. There’s definitely nothing where Aryn had stood anymore, but something tells him that it won’t be that easy. “Let’s just—”

“You know, that hurt,” A voice calls behind them, and Ardyn Izunia stands there, perfectly unharmed, posed in mock pain. “And what did I ever do to deserve such a cold welcome?”

Gladio growls, tries to step forward. Noct grabs his arm and holds him back.

“I could have died,” Ardyn continues. “And whatever would have happened then?” Whistling cheerfully, he takes out a familiar gun from underneath his coat. It’s Prompto’s Death Penalty. “How would you have ever gotten your dear Prompto back?

“And then I remembered that I’m immortal.” And he finally steps towards them, twirling the pistol in his hand. “So hello, my dear, perhaps we can finally chat a little without interruptions.”

“There’s only one thing I’ve ever wanted to know,” Noct says, gripping Gladio’s arm even tighter. His other hand finds Ignis. “What do you want? What have you ever wanted? Why are you doing this?”

“And that’s the problem, you see,” Ardyn hums. “You were always meant to know. I had always thought you knew. The fact that you don’t is so amusing, I’m not sure I want to spoil the surprise. 

“In any case, the train ought to be reaching Gralea soon. You’ve received yet another Royal Arm,” His eyes flicker to the trident lying on the ground. “And at the capital, perhaps you will find all you are looking for. Prompto, the Crystal. Your right to the throne. Answers. And you will most definitely find me,” He tosses the gun to Noct and turns away. “I’ll be sure to grant you a warm welcome.”

They let him leave, because Noct knows that they can’t beat him. If even Gentiana— Shiva’s icy breath had done nothing, then he must really immortal. Noct isn’t even surprised.

“Perhaps we had ought to check on our conductors,” Ignis’ suggestion breaks Noct out of his thoughts. “Shall we?”

“You guys go on ahead,” Noct says. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Once the door slides shut behind them, Noct allows himself to sink back down on the floor. With shaking hands, he picks up the trident and the gun; the trident on the right and the gun on the left, or maybe it’s the other way around.

Don’t think about it, Noct thinks desperately, but it’s no use.

“I’m sorry,” Noct whimpers to no one. “ _I’m sorry_.”

Prompto, Luna. 

“How could I have ever traded either of you?” Noct whispers, because just like that Luna was gone and then again, _just like that_ , Prompto had been taken. What’s the last thing he had said to him? Something inane, ordinary. Then— gone.

Fat splotches appear on the floor below him, and Noct makes a wretched noise in the back of his throat.

“I didn’t want this,” He sobs like a child and clutches weapons of war close to chest, as if they can do something other than kill and kill and kill some more. “It’s all my fault and _I’m sorry_.”

* * *

As it turns out, Ardyn has surprises for them. Before they even reach the gates of Gralea, the train is overrun with all sorts of daemon infestations. Maybe it would have been alright, only Noct goes to summon his Ultima Blade, but nothing appears in his hand.

He tries again. To his mounting horror, nothing appears again.

“What are you waiting for?” Gladio yells at him, already swinging his own weapon.

“I can’t— I can’t summon anything!” Noct responds in panic, trying again and again. “Nothing’s happening!”

“Then we head down to the far end of the train,” Ignis speaks up quickly, already forming a new plan of action. “This train will not make it, not under such a siege. We will have to take the Regalia.”

Noct drives, for reasons he doesn’t like to think about, It’s an absolute hell, with airships aiming at the roads and the gates to the city beginning to close. Slamming on the gas pedal, he pushes through at a breakneck speed, the Regalia skidding past the entrance and almost tipping over.

When they get out, the hood of the car still smoking and the rear view mirrors cracked, the engine unresponsive, Noct can’t help but feel a sense of loss. It’s just a car, he tells himself fiercely, but it was his father’s car, the king’s trusty steed. It was his.

His father’s car, childhood sentiments, adolescent dreams; his father and the Regalia. Words pour into his head, but they are foreign and make little sense, so Noct pushes them away. He backs up from the wreckage, and each step away is a little easier.

“Let’s get going,” Gladio says, but his voice is warm and sympathetic, and they don’t even get 100 yards before Ardyn’s next trap crashes down upon them.

* * *

Noct has no words to describe the time after this.

He’s not even sure how long it was, and he’s never bothered to ask. It’s a dark time, strange and twisted into knots and he can’t quite unravel its tangle. It’s fragmented, in short bursts of memory and convoluted thought, with the only constant being Ardyn, Ardyn, Ardyn.

It’s like— it’s like being suspended in the air by puppet strings. Noct doesn’t know who makes him raise his right arm, only that it does. He doesn’t know why he blinks, only that he does. He knows not how he moves at all, only that he does. He has no interest in destination, and he becomes used to it, and thoughts of hope and hopelessness and fear and love are all irrelevant.

He’s not sure what order all of it goes.

 

Noct gasps, pants, finally in a sheltered area where he can rest for just a little while. He knows this isn’t going to work. Isolated, with no access to his weapons, there is absolutely no way he’s going to survive.

But there’s always something else. The ring in his pocket.

But the fact of the matter is— _he doesn’t want to put it on._ This ring, that’s seen countless deaths, generation after generation, sapping the strength from his father over the span of decades.

The truth is, everything granted to the kings of Lucis is a death trap. The Armiger, without healing items, can kill Noct in a matter of seconds. The ring is no different— but its effects are longer lasting, slower to come to realization. The Wall, the arcana spells. The Crystal powering it all.

(Maybe— maybe granting them two bodies wasn’t a gift. Maybe, like everything else, it was just a curse.)

What would have happened to her, if she had put the ring on, and Ravus and Nyx flicker to his mind.

Well, he has no choice now, does he? Not if he wants to survive. Noct stares at the ring, long and hard, and finally, with fumbling fingers, he puts on the Ring of Lucii.

 

There’s something intensely claustrophobic about the capital. Perhaps it’s the narrow corridors, the dim lighting, the low ceilings. But even moreso, the streets lays empty, the entire city eerily silent. Alone, Noct’s own thoughts press in on him, surrounding him, muffling common sense and rationality.

Maybe that’s why he can’t stop seeing Prompto.

There’s Prompto right there, only he reaches out and _there’s no one there_ , because Prompto’s running down the hallway to the left, no, no, that was just a shadow, his mind is playing tricks on him.

(Or maybe Ardyn is playing tricks on him?)

 

Ardyn taunts him. Ardyn never stops taunting him.

But does it really count as taunting, when all his words ring true? When every syllable, leaving his lips the way poison drips from a cup, tells no lie? What is he to do, try to deny it when he knows in his gut that none of this is a falsity? It’s too horrifying to be a lie. It’s too _real_ to be a lie.

“You must start thinking to yourself, what am I doing here?” The PA system crackles. “All this struggle, horror, and yet you still persevere. All for what? Your friend Prompto— who knows how long he will hold up? Ignis, poor Ignis, hopefully he hasn’t bumbled into some sort of trap. And Gladio, dear Gladio, how long before he turns on you again? You are weak, my dear, and you know he deserves better. He’s a better man than you ever could be, _and he deserves better_.

“They don’t need you,” Ardyn says in his ear, until he can no longer tell whether it’s the chancellor that’s saying it or himself. You’re wasting your time. You’re suffering, you’re drowning. And for what? Maybe you should just stop here, because this is hard and painful and you’re all alone.

Why do you continue in this game, when it all doesn’t matter in the end?

“No,” He replies, shakily. “No, you’re wrong. It does matter.”

No one answers.

 

“All these daemons, yet not a soul in sight,” Ardyn murmurs. “Wherever could they have gone, I wonder. Were they all killed? Not all of them, surely.”

What else could it have been, though?

“The Six never told you what the starscourge really did, did they,” His voice is acid. “Those who succumb to its hold do not die, and suffer a fate far worse than death.

“How do you think daemons are born, my dear?”

 

“One thing you’ve never asked me,” Ardyn speaks again. “Is what I am. I’m sure you’re curious.”

Isn’t that the million gil question. He pretends he doesn’t hear him, and continues on.

“I am an idea,” He announces, as if that makes any sort of sense whatsoever. “I am a set of standards that dictate who I am, what I wear, what I look like. How I speak, how I act, it all depends on what I am. What Ardyn Izunia is. Isn’t that such a profound thought? I am, by all means, myself.”

There’s a shock trooper coming closer. Noct hides behind the corner.

“Are you not the same? You decide what you look like, who you are, how you speak. You’re different from Lady Lunafreya because you’ve decided that Noct will act a certain way, while the late Oracle will act in the other. _Noct_ is an idea you’ve used to hide yourself, to portray yourself through a filter.

“And now it’s my turn to ask you— _you_ , my dear, not Noct. If you are neither Noct nor Luna, just what are you?”

Ardyn’s mocking voice digs deep into his chest, and Noct— and _they_ don’t have an answer.

_Here’s the thing._

_It doesn’t matter that Luna is dead. By all means, she’s alive. There is only one soul in question, and it’s still alive, isn’t it? Maybe it would be better to compare her death to a severe body injury. When all of a sudden, Noct isn’t able to move half of his body anymore. The phantom pains, if he could even call it that, are what he can’t get past. It_ hurts _._

_But here’s the thing: it doesn’t work like that._

_It’s complicated, needlessly convoluted, their relationship. Luna had been someone, and Noct is someone else. But at the same time, they are the same. Yet Noct is, and Luna isn’t._

_Luna dies. If they were truly exactly the same, it wouldn’t have hurt. It can’t have, because Noct would have been exactly the same, and nothing would have been lost. But Luna was someone else, someone with her own life, and Noct will never get that back._

_But they aren’t the same. That’s why Luna died,_ because they weren’t the same _, and she had to die._

_How is he allowed to say that they are the same, yet not? He’s never thought about it, but now that Luna is gone, he thinks. He thinks, and he thinks, and finally he wonders,_

_is there a difference between Noct and_ me _?_

 

It’s simple. Take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine. Noct is fine. Noct is fine. Everything is going to be fine.

What would Noct do in this situation?

You do not cry, not even for her, someone asks. No, that’s not Noct. You’re not the only hero, someone else says, but that’s not Noct either. Dad, I love you, and certainly that’s Noct, isn’t it?

No, that had been ~~shesalreadygonewhatdoesitmatter~~

L

 

“It’s the ultimate failsafe,” Ardyn’s voice crackles over the PA pleasantly. “The Lucis kings are granted two bodies to reside in, and by extension, two chances to live. If one dies, the other takes over the throne.”

They can’t concentrate right now, not when they’re this close to death and Ardyn’s oily voice whispering all of this in their ear. They can’t ignore it, they can’t pretend he doesn’t exist. Why doesn’t he ever stop talking? They just want this all to stop.

“But it doesn’t make sense,” The chancellor feigns confusion as they creep down the corridor. “Since when has that ever happened? I, for one, have never heard a king, in all of Lucis’ rich history, dying, then reclaiming their throne with their other self. How would it ever work, as a matter fact? How could the public, unknowing of the Astral’s blessings, ever accept a stranger, possibly even a foreigner, with no royal blood to take their king’s throne?

“The ultimate failsafe? I think not,” And he cackles, leaving them wondering what exactly the chancellor is trying to imply. And he makes a solid point. It’s the ‘ultimate failsafe—’ yet no king has ever used it, because if they had, the public would have known of everything. But there have been 113 kings before them; there has to have been at least one that died as king before they did as the other identity.

But then, Ardyn continues, and their world spins out of axis, and they can’t breathe again, they can’t— 

“I had such a wonderful time these past centuries, tracking down all those second identities of those kings,” Ardyn tells him cheerfully. “All of you have a certain trace of the crystal’s magic lingering on yourselves, you see. Once you learn how to detect it, it’s not hard to track you down.

“Oh, and your father,” He continues gleefully. “A man living in Altissia. He ran a cheery little bar. I do believe it’s still there. Such a shame that he died in a such a little accident, don’t you think?”

“No,” They whisper, and a wave of weakness threatens to make them fall to their knees. No, no, no, he can’t be saying what they think he’s saying. He can’t be saying this.

 

“What do you know of the magitek, my dear?” He asks. “A funny little nickname you’ve given them. MT. ‘Empty.’ How… quaint.”

Don’t respond. There’s no one there. Pretend that nothing he says makes sense. It’s all nonsense.

“They weren’t always like this. Once, like all the daemons around us, they were human. With my help, Niflheim learned how to use daemons to their advantage. Along with this, they developed the magitek; essentially mass-produced, controllable daemons. Brought up in labs, barcoded and numbered, raised to be weapons, yet humans nonetheless. And yet, here they are, dying to the hands of King of the prophecy. Tell me, who is the monster here?”

There was a girl, they remember, that worked as a maid at the manor. They never knew her name. She was very pretty. They liked her.

She moved to Gralea, the maids had said.

Looking at the devastated capital, the remains of all the civilians scattered all over as daemons and MT units, they wonder.

Her pretty red hair, freckles, brown eyes— which of these was her?

She was ever so beautiful.

(And then they killed her)

Ardyn is wrong— no he’s right, he’s right, he’s wrong, they don’t know anymore. They don’t know anything anymore.

Here is the thing. They are Luna.

When Luna is— 

~~When Luna is four years old, she comes to the realization that she can see two things at once. That she has four arms, four ears, four eyes, four legs, and that she has a brother and is the next in line to be Oracle, but is also an only child and is next in line to be King of Lucis.~~

No, no, that isn’t right. They are Noct.

When Noct is— 

~~When Noct is twenty years old, he wakes with a ring clenched in his hand and comes to the realization for the first time in twenty years, he sees only one thing at a time. That he has two arms, two ears, two eyes, two legs, and that he is the King of Lucis with a dead father and no siblings.~~

That’s also not right. It can’t be right.

Because here is the thing. When Luna died, they lived, because Noct survived. Yet if Noct had died instead, they would have still been here, because Luna would be alive. But then, they can’t be Luna or Noct, can they, if they still live after he or she dies.

But you’re both of them, they try to tell themselves, but that can’t be right either. How can you be two people at the same time? They don’t feel like two people. If they’re both, then why is Luna gone? All of them is still here, but Luna is gone and gone and gone.

Because they’ve always existed, always, but only through Luna and Noct. But Luna is gone now, they remind themselves yet again, and try as they might, Noct is slipping through their grasp. They were never given an identity, a character. They are formless, compartmentalized into two facades, and now that they are slipping away they’ve been left to fend for themselves, exposed to the world for the first time.

(A long, long time ago, they called themselves Luna. It was before Noct, before anything had begun. But that time has long since past, and Luna is gone now and they are still here, so they aren’t, can’t be Luna anymore.)

What is their name? How old are they? Why are they here? Who are they? What are they?

How did father ever manage, they wonder.

Weaponless, nameless, and helpless, they stumble through the corridors of Zegnautus Keep.

 

What do they care about Prompto anyway, they think bitterly to themselves. What do they care about Gladio, or Ignis, or Ravus or the fate of Lucis, or Tenebrae. It doesn’t matter to them. It’s not _theirs_ to care about. Something pushes them forward, but they don’t know what. They don’t want to do this anymore. They’re done.

(They’re done with this. Who cares about him? Who cares about her? Everything they had ever wanted, ever needed, it doesn’t even matter. Their suffering seems so insignificant now, because they had fought long and hard for something they could never have.)

Wait, what? No, this isn’t right. They can’t just leave Prompto to die here, for Gladio and Ignis to never find them. They care. Don’t they?

 

Zegnautus Keep. The Citadel. Niflheim. Lucis. 

Zegnautus Keep. Fenestala Manor. Niflheim. Tenebrae.

A jumble of words and phrases pile in their head, until a giant mound rests in the way between where they are and what they seek. Noctis. Lunafreya. Brother, sister, father, mother, friend. Sword, glaive, covenant, gods, starscourge, crystal, ring, prophecy, star.

Some of these words had belonged to her, some to him, some to both.

Yet none are for them.

Pretend it doesn’t exist, then. None of it is for them. No death, no life, no love, no fear, no hope, no hopelessness.

Just them.

They fall.

At the bottom of the bottom, the lowest of the low, they find a body. It’s lying right in the middle of the chamber, a familiar sword stabbed into the ground, glinting in the dim light. A metal arm, clearly torn off, is still clasping the hilt.

It’s Ravus’ arm.

It’s Ravus’ body.

It’s Ravus.

Hello Ravus. Whatever are you thinking, lying on the floor like that? You’re going to get your clothes dirty. See, there’s already a bit of grime on them. What were you thinking, honestly, wearing white in such a place anyways? Mother’s going to be mad at you again. Well, it’s alright, at least you aren’t dead.

At least you 

aren’t

de

a

d

* * *

Meeting with Ravus is nice. He gives me back my father’s sword. He won’t come with me, though.

There are so many more levels to climb, and it’s tiring. But I’m not afraid, not anymore. I think I was afraid before, and I no longer understand why. Maybe it is hard, but this isn’t so bad. Everything looks the same after a while, and this sword is very helpful. I can understand why Ravus would want it now. How very kind of him, to give it back. I think I used to be angry at him, too. But he has been so kind, ever so kind. How could I ever be angry at him?

There’s a voice that sometimes speaks in the walls. I don’t understand it. Its words don’t make sense to me. It spouts gibberish. It laughs a lot. Sometimes it sounds like it’s laughing at me, and I don’t like it.

I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m ~~noctlunawhereareyou~~ ~~helpme~~

I think it’s a rather nice name, don’t you?

I don’t know how long I walk, until finally, I’m caught in a trap.

It looks as if the walls are closing in. Oh dear, this is quite a pickle. At least this sword Ravus was so kind to lend is helpful. Getting out of this before dying would probably nice.

Oh, wouldn’t you know. There’s voices outside. 

It’s Gladio and Ignis. Hello, Gladio and Ignis. Look at this sword my brother gave me. He was being a bit silly when I met with him, lying on the floor. He even took his arm off and refused to talk to me. Do you suppose he’s still mad at me?

I can’t understand you unless you talk to me, Gladio probably says.

I’m talking right now, aren’t I?

Gladio hugs me. He’s shaking. I’m sorry, he probably says. Don’t do this to me, Noct. Talk to me.

Gladio, what’s wrong. Ignis? You’re scaring me. And you’re so silly, Gladio, that’s not my name. It’s ~~ineverwantedthis~~ , remember?

What does he look like? Ignis probably asks. Noct, are you alright?

He’s not responding. He’s crying. Gladio probably answers. What the hell did Ardyn _do_ to him? He looks terrible.

Haha, what are they talking about? I’m not crying. And they keep calling me by the wrong name. Stop doing that, it’s getting me annoyed.

And there’s no sign of Prompto? Ignis probably says.

Who’s Prompto? I ask, but as usual, they ignore me. Gladio holds me even tighter. Is there a dormitory nearby? He probably wonders aloud.

They take me there, set me down on one of the beds.

Hey, Gladio probably says to me. His voice is probably gentle, but not warm. He looks scared. How are you feeling?

I’m great, Gladio.

He takes a shaky breath. Remember that one time, he probably says, when you had that fight with Ignis? I made you hot chocolate and we ate ice cream together.

I don’t remember that. When did we do that? Have I ever had ice cream with you?

Wait.

… Who are you again? I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.

The stranger in front of me probably continues. You sort of look the same way you did back then. Miserable, not knowing what to say. You wanted to make everything better, but you didn’t know how.

… I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.

But you did know. The man probably says. He’s bearded, his hair matted and long. His clothes are a mess. He should probably clean himself up before he tries to talk to strangers. You already knew what to say, how to fix everything, Noct. You just needed a little encouragement.

His lips flicker into a smile. Maybe it isn’t so different from now.

But I’m not Noct. Whoever you’re looking for, it isn’t me. I’m not Noct.

Maybe all you need, the stranger probably says, is a little encouragement.

Your name is Noctis Lucis Caelum, he probably says. And you are the King of Lucis. You can’t fall here. Your eyes are open, but you aren’t seeing. You’re awake, but you’re still sleeping. And you can’t do that. There are still things you must do, and there are still people that need you.

I’m not Noct. I don’t know who you’re talking about.

Wake up, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia, the King’s sworn shield, probably says. Your time is now.

I’m not Noct.

Wake up, Noctis, Gladiolus Amicitia says. I know you can see me. I know you can hear me. So wake up.

I’m not— 

Wake up, Noctis, Gladiolus says. Everyone needs you.

I’m— 

“Wake up, Noct,” Gladio says, and his voice falters and cracks. He leans in close, so their foreheads are touching.

He kisses Noct deep and soft, painful and agonizing. His lips almost taste like tears.

“Because I can’t do this without you.”

* * *

Oh.

Here’s the thing.

“We can’t do this without him, either,” A voice says. It sounds familiar.

“Hey,” Noctis Lucis Caelum greets. “You’re absolutely off your rocker, you know that right?”

You aren’t real, though.

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” Noct says. “I’m not technically a person. It’s always just been you.”

I’m not you.

“You chose not to be me,” Noct corrects. “That doesn’t mean anything. It never meant anything, and it won’t mean anything.”

What do you mean?

“Look,” Sighs Noct, and he sounds tired. “You’re fucking batshit crazy. Ardyn messed you up. You’re talking _me_ , which shouldn’t even be possible. I’m not— I’m not something you can _talk to_. I’m an idea. I exist because you exist. You made me. You made yourself, and it then it was your decision to not be that anymore.”

I don’t understand.

“Everyone hides,” Noct says plainly. “You’re in public, you’re in front of family— whoever it is, you act differently to adjust to your surroundings. It’s natural. It’s healthy. There’s nothing wrong with it. You know that. You’ve always known that.

“I’m your mask; you can’t function without me. Don’t even try, because it’s not working. I don’t even get how you managed to _pretend_ you weren’t Noct. You can’t just— you can’t just try to walk out there without me. You keep trying to dissociate yourself with me, this idea of me, and it’s not working.”

I don’t— I’m trying. I don’t know how to do it anymore. I don’t know how I did it before.

“Before, we had Luna,” and his voice softens. “She balanced me. She was everything I wasn’t, and I was everything she wasn’t. It’s hard without her, because the scale’s been tipped. You built a codependent relationship between your two identities, and then when one is gone, it’s hard to keep the other afloat. Luna’s gone now, and ideas can’t die, not really. So I guess we weren’t exactly ideas. But we were something close to that. I swear, you picked the best time to have an existential crisis.

“But at the end of the road, it’s not about trying to be me,” Noct continues. “Because you are me. You try to deny that you’ve ever met Gladio, that you’ve ever seen what I’ve seen and you’ve done what I’ve done, but you know that’s a lie. You don’t even have to try. You’ve experienced every feeling, every action Noct has. You know every thought that runs through his brain. You _are_ him.”

And that’s why he shouldn’t be talking to Noctis right now, because he _is_ Noctis. There’s no one telling him anything. It’s just himself. It’s always been himself. Just Noct and Luna. Just Noct.

It’s always been that easy. It’s always been that perfect contradiction.

Who are you, Ardyn Izunia mocks him.

Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia retorts. He’s Noctis Lucis Caelum.

**Noctis Lucis Caelum.**

“Here’s the thing,” Noct says, to no one in particular. “I’m me.”

* * *

When he fully comes to, the first thing he says to Gladio is how he’s never, ever going to let him into his apartment again if he keeps stealing all the food. “You just _had_ to bring up the ice cream, didn’t you,” Noct grumbles, and then he’s enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

“You fucking dumbass,” Gladio says, his voice muffled in Noct’s shoulder. “What were you trying to pull? You had me worried. I really thought—”

“... Sorry,” Noct replies. “I screwed up. I— I’m not quite sure how to describe what happened. It was… I don’t know. Just, Ardyn. He said some stuff that got to me.” Belatedly, he realizes that his cheeks are wet. What a sight he must have been, unresponsive, unseeing, tearing up over nothing. He must have looked terrified.

Gladio looks up, and Noct realizes that he looks like a trainwreck, his eyes are a little red. Is he… crying?

“You should’ve heard what he was saying,” Gladio spits out. “He had me thinking you were— augh, it doesn’t matter now. We’re back together, and we’re going to ok. Ignis is right outside, I’ll go get him.” He starts to let go, and Noct grabs his arm.

Noct’s not quite sure what to say, because it’s clear Gladio doesn’t want to talk about it. He isn’t one to push, but at the same time, maybe it would be better if he did. Either way, he supposes, this isn’t the time. “Do you…” Noct takes a deep breath starts over again. “Luna. If I… wanted to try to ‘be’ her again, do you… think you could live with that?”

“Be her?”

Noct shrugs, and he struggles to explain what he means. “It’s all a matter of perspective in the end. All this time, I kept thinking that Luna was gone. I guess she is, but— I still miss being her. I’m still here. At the end of the day, I’m still me, but it’s just little things; mannerisms, clothing, stuff like that. I don’t know. I want that back. I think I have the right to have that back.”

If I was Luna, could you love her, Noct asks, and Gladio looks him in the eye and says, 

“Of course.”

* * *

Before long, the reunited trio becomes the quartet they had begun as.

“Prompto!” He’s been tied up, chained to the wall with his arms spread, his head hanging down. They cut through the bindings, help him down.

Prompto flinches at their touch, and Noct recoils on instinct. “I’m sorry, did we—” He starts in a panic, but Prompto holds up his hand, still not looking at any of them.

“You guys,” He coughs, his voice raspy for reasons Noct would rather not imagine. “You’re… real, right? This isn’t an illusion?” He shakes. “I’m glad. I’m so glad. There are so many things I messed up on, and— and at least I won’t mess this up.”

“Prompto—”

“I can’t keep _hiding_ like this.” 

With a deliberate purpose, Prompto carefully removes his gloves and wristbands. His fingers tremble. He holds his wrist out for everyone to see.

“Don’t think any less of me,” His voice cracks, and Noct can tell he’s trying to resist the urge to hide it, the glaring barcode printed on his skin. “Don’t let this change what you think of me.”

That barcode. Noct knows what it means. Niflheim developed the magitek; essentially mass-produced, controllable daemons. Brought up in labs, barcoded and numbered, raised to be weapons, Ardyn had said.

“I escaped a long, long time ago,” Prompto says. “I never thought I would see this place again. But, I can’t deny it anymore. I’m— I’m one of _them_.”

And the thing is, Noct really doesn’t care. He’s surprised, yes, but he doesn’t give a shit. Seeing Prompto’s horrified face makes angry, seeing the state he’s in is terrible, but a goddamn barcode? He doesn’t care some stupid tattoo. Noct’s ready to tell him no, it doesn’t change anything, but Ignis places a steady hand on Prompto’s shoulder. 

“We’ve never thought any less of you, for anything.” He says. “Rather, it is you who thinks less of yourself, and that is the only reason why any of this matters.”

Prompto jerks up in surprise, and Gladio comes toward him. “You’re an annoying little brat,” He says wryly, slapping Prompto lightly on the back. “No one gives a shit about whether you’re from Niflheim, because it really doesn’t change who you are.”

“I—” Prompto stutters. “I could’ve been a spy! You guys would… believe me so easily? Just like that?”

Gladio raises a brow. “Yeah.”

“I don’t see what’s so difficult to understand,” Ignis says calmly, but they’re both smiling and Noct snorts softly. Both of them are ridiculously calm, to the point where it’s clear they’re faking it just to unnerve Prompto. He’s getting deja vu.

“Listen,” and he takes Prompto’s uncovered arm. “I made you promise that you wouldn’t let anyone stop from being what you wanted to be. This,” And he jabs at the black marks. “Doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it to be. So don’t make it mean anything.”

“It’s not that easy,” Prompto says weakly in return, and he’s right. It’s never that easy.

“I know,” Noct says, and he hugs Prompto’s skinny frame. “It must’ve been hard to tell all of us. I’m so, so sorry I got you kidnapped. I’m sorry it took so long to get to you, and that you were alone all this time. But I’m not sorry that no one cares.”

Prompto must really be the strongest of them all. In not long at all, Noct had cracked under the pressure. Gladio had as well, and Ignis— he doesn’t know, but both of them had been very quiet about what Ardyn had said to them. But Prompto, he’s right here, battered and bruised but still kicking.

“I’m just glad,” Prompto says, muffled. “That you came to get me to begin with. You guys are the best friends I could ask for. The absolute best friends.”

“We were the ones that _left_ you,” Noct sniffs. “I can’t believe you still think so highly of me.”

Prompto laughs, and for just a second, everything is alright.

* * *

At the highest level of Zegnautus Keep, they break into the throne room, and find a whirring and humming machine of some sorts. Once it’s broken, Noct finds that he can summon his weapons again. It’s a breath of relief, because using the ring had been unreliable and painful.

Taking the elevator, they finds themselves back in the hangar. The gate onwards is across the clearing, and they don’t take one step before Ardyn murmurs, his voice sickly sweet, “I have one more present for you, my dear.”

The sound of a low groaning can be heard. Stumbling footsteps.

What is it now? Noct licks his chapped lips. Another daemon, probably. He’s expecting anything, everything.

He doesn’t expect this.

“Kill me,” A dead man rasps at him, his white hair turning black, his left arm a black monstrosity, spreading across his chest and heart and a horn on his head, and Noct wonders if he can even see, with tar pouring out of his eyes. “End this.”

For a strange second, even though it’s obvious, Noct doesn’t recognize him.

“End it, Lunafreya,” Ravus Nox Fleuret says to him, the starscourge taking its heavy toll, and he holds out his corrupted arm, almost as a plea.

“What do you think of another sibling spat?” Ardyn asks them cheerfully. “It will just be like old times, will it not?”

And without warning, Ravus charges.

Fighting him is hard. Like always, he is inhumanly strong, and only now Noct’s beginning to understand why. But this is, this isn’t someone he can fight. He falters whenever there’s an opening. His attacks are not as fierce as they should be. He’s reluctant to use magic on him.

“Noct, stay out of this,” Ignis calls. “You do not have to do this to yourself.”

“We’ll,” Gladio grunts, “Take care of it.”

“You can’t win without me,” Noct protests, and he’s right. Ravus is strong, stronger than the other daemons in this stronghold.

“Noct, it’s your _brother_ ,” Prompto says, his voice caring. “We can’t just let you— OW.” He yelps as he gets sliced on the arm.

Noct tosses him a potion, ignores everyone except the enemy in front of them, and takes out his trident.

Ravus is dead. He’s long since been dead, and Ardyn did something to him that made him into _this_ , Noct knows that. He shouldn’t feel bad about anything. He shouldn’t hesitate from striking him down.

But he’s dead because of Noct. If only he hadn’t— if only Luna hadn’t _told_ him, and then he would still be alright. Ravus, Ravus, who isn’t standing in front of him now because this isn’t him, this amalgamation everything wrong and a shell of a body.

He flinches at the sight of the trident. Recognizes it. Noct swings it with expertise, daring him to try and stop him.

“I’ll fix this,” He tells him. “I’ll end this.”

(It’s a long fight. Ravus doesn’t go easy on them. Noct tries not to go easy on him, either. In a way, Ardyn was right. The fight is just a cruel parody of an argument between siblings. The jab at each other, meaning to hurt, but in the end neither of them really want the other to succumb to defeat.)

In the end, Ravus falls. He drops his sword, which clatters to the ground, slumps forward, first on his knees, then eventually his entire body topples.

Noct stumbles over to him, the trident dematerializing. Ravus turns his head in his direction, and Noct can’t tell what he’s thinking beyond those soulless eyes. He grips Ravus’ hand, clawed and daemon-like, black substance dripping off it.

“Blessed,” Noct starts, and starts again. “Blessed stars of— of life and light—”

He breaks it off, because maybe Luna would have been able to heal this, this sickness, with the black tar of the starscourge pouring out of his eye and mouth and ear; but Noct, Noct can do nothing but hold his hand helplessly as Ravus chokes and gasps, the others silent beside him.

He stretches his other hand towards Noct. “Noctis,” He rasps.

“Ravus, you…”

“Noctis,” Ravus whispers. “Lunafreya.”

“Ravus, just,” Noct fumbles with his inventory. What does he even have with him, some elixirs, potions; where is it, where is it— a phoenix down. “Just shut up for a bit.”

“You cannot heal me,” Ravus croaks. “I am already dead.”

“I said to shut up,” Noct snaps, and he brings the feather close to Ravus’ heart. It glows a crimson red, but nothing _happens_ , nothing happens because this isn’t something a phoenix down could ever heal.

“I am sorry,” Ravus says helplessly, and Noct puts down the feather and he has nothing; he has never had anything because Ravus was never his to have.

“Why are you such a fool?” Noct asks him weakly. “Why must you always disregard what I say?”

Only Ravus can barely respond, and his head turns ever so slightly so that Noct can see the glaze of his black eyes and his mouth parts just an inch, the blackness dribbling out. He mouths his words.

And then he’s gone.

(Ravus leaves Altissia with nothing but empty hopes and bitter words between his last living family member, and then Luna is dead. And then he dies too, and the last thing he ever hears her say isn’t what Noct wanted him to hear.

Give him the sword, Luna says, and then she is gone without even a goodbye. But that’s not what Noct wanted Ravus to remember her with.

Just, just shut up. I said shut up. Why do you never listen to me, Noct asks him. But that’s not what he wanted Ravus to hear.

Live, Ravus mouths, and then he is gone.)

“Ok, Ravus,” Noct whispers, and he lets go of his hand. “I’ll live. I’ll live for both of us. I promise.”

* * *

And then he reaches the end.

Noct runs alone, because after Ravus dissipates into nothingness, hordes upon hordes of daemons are suddenly upon them, and he knows what Ardyn is trying to do.

“There is a chance that the Crystal may give us the power to destroy these daemons,” Ignis says. “We will hold them off, Noct, so hurry! The Crystal lies just ahead.”

He’s trying to separate them, but what can Noct do but agree to this? He heads down to the lower level, past the gate, up the elevator, warping past daemons that come after him, they’re not important right now, right now all he needs is to reach the Crystal and call for its power. He’s the Chosen. He can do this.

The Crystal is chained, surrounded in glowing blue and purple. It looks the same as it once did in the tower of the Citadel. Tendrils of light reach at Noct. His run slows to a walk.

“Please,” He says to it. “Please help me.” He holds out his hand. Help me save my friends. Help me stop Ardyn. Help me save the world.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. A weapon of some sorts? Any sort of immeasurable power, really.

A tendril reaches out to him, and _pulls._

Noct gasps, then realizes that he can’t let go. It keeps pulling him in, and with shock he finds that his hand has been absorbed into the rock.

“So you’ve finally arrived,” Ardyn Izunia says behind him, and Noct turns as best he can, struggling to pull his arm back out, but it’s no use. He can’t fight like this. The Crystal pulls even, more, and his arm sinks in another inch.

“Let me tell you a story,” Ardyn takes leisurely steps forward. “Thousands of years ago, there was a king. He was chosen by the Crystal and the Six to right the world, cure the scourge. They granted him the power to wield the glaives of his ancestors, to heal the afflicted, and two bodies of his own to reside on the mortal plane with.”

Noct gasps and pants. The Crystal starts to take in his shoulder.

“Yet, darkness poured into his heart, as the more he healed, the more of the scourge he absorbed. By some strange consequence of everything, he lost control of all he had. His crown, his reputation, his hopes. In some ways, he even lost himself. And what an odd sight that was— _by some strange consequence_ , he had become not one, but two.

“The Astrals scorned him. He scorned himself. And he vowed that he would have his revenge, destroy it all.”

What does any of this mean? What does _Ardyn mean?_ Noct’s lifted from the ground his legs melting into the rock, and Ardyn looks up at him, and Noct sees a monster.

“Ardyn Lucis Caelum is my proper name,” Ardyn adjusts his hat, and his dark eyes seem more vengeful than they’ve ever been. His lips form a facsimile of a smile, but all Noct can see through the panic is anger, anger and more anger. He laughs and laughs, and he says to Noct, as if he’s sharing a secret, “I wonder what Izunia would have said if he saw this.”

Ardyn Izunia— Lucis Caelum— whoever he is, whatever he is, is the last thing Noct sees before he is swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more and we're done folks!!! i did not realize how long this and the chapter before that were gonna take and i rly, rly hope the last chapter wont take a month; its not meant to be esp lengthy. i would offer some teaser lines as appeasement but every single sentence is so spoilery i cant even do that
> 
> also it was my birthday yesterday (friday)!! im sweating i told myself during winter break when i first started writing this that by the time st. pattys passed id be long done with this but here i am, months later, still in hell


	15. End of the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw its the last chapter and all of a sudden there's exposition and a whole different format but u like it anyways  
> short chapter, but hopefully it blows ur mind
> 
> also, amazing job to everyone who guessed you-know-what before this; yall are geniuses

This is the end of the road.

This is the end of the road, and there is not much left to be said. What little remains are only secrets, some known to a few, and some known to none at all. Treasures, to those who know what they mean.

This is the end of the road, and the tale is over.

Because at the end of everything, and at the beginning of all beginnings, there are a million things Noct does not, and will not, ever know. Yet at the same time, there are a million things that he cannot, and will not, ever forget.

And Noct will never forget this:

In those ten years, drifting aimlessly through nothing, he sleeps. He sleeps, and for a long time he lives in nothing, is surrounded in nothing, is nothing.

But before that, before _nothing_ , Bahamut, the Draconian, speaks to him. His words have long since been washed away, but their meanings still linger in Noct’s mind.

 _Die_ , the Draconian tells him. _Fulfill your destiny, destroy the Accursed. And so it is; the revelation of Bahamut._

(That’s not really what he says, not word for word, but it’s what he means and it’s what Noct remembers. What he will always remember. He must die, as Providence dictates. He must die, and only then will Ardyn and the starscourge be put to rest.)

What happened to him, Noct asks. Ardyn.

 _He was once like you_ , the Draconian had said. _And the scourge of the stars took all that he had away from him. We had given him everything, and in the end he had walked away with half of what he had started with._

It is a strange thing, the scourge, Noct learns, that corrupts everything in its way. Even the Crystal’s magic, it alters and twists and warps, until the magic that had once held two bodies together withers away and snaps.

 _We denied him rest_ , Bahamut says. _And we renounced him, and instead claimed_ him, _once the same, but no longer._

Izunia.

And then he learns this:

The Astrals denied Ardyn rest. And by extension, by some twisted fate, Izunia could not rest either.

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this:

A long time ago, at the beginning of all beginnings, when Izunia is forty-five years old, he wakes and comes to the realization that for the first time in over forty years, he sees only one thing at a time. That he has two arms, two ears, two eyes, two legs, and he has no idea what happened.

He finds himself, later, only it’s not him anymore. What happened, he asks Ardyn, and neither have an answer.

A long time ago, at the beginning of all beginnings, Izunia steals the throne, the ring, and the dignity that comes with it from him ~~self~~. Why must I do this, he asks the Draconian, but he already knows why. Ardyn Lucis Caelum is not stable. There is too much darkness in him, and he is no longer controllable. He is not containable. He is no one but himself, and he no longer listens to the gods the way he used to.

It is a cruel thing he does, something he balks at and cringes, but he does it nonetheless, because he is Izunia and he will follow the will of the gods.

When it is done, Ardyn screams, curses, rages, tries to kill Izunia.

Izunia tries to kill him too.

They both fail.

But he is cast out by the Astrals, and it is all over. Izunia takes Ardyn’s name, and Ardyn takes his. Sometimes it strikes him rather funny, that they do so. Whatever will taking titles do, when it does not change anything at all? Izunia is still Izunia. Ardyn is still Ardyn. Nothing changes. Nothing ever will.

Because it’s already changed, and all Izunia wants is Ardyn. He wants Ardyn back. He wants to be Ardyn again. It’s already changed, and nothing will ever change it back.

But it’s alright. It’s all over. Izunia will rule, die. The peace in his country will be long and bountiful.

A year passes, maybe two or three. Maybe a few decades. Maybe centuries. Maybe eons. And maybe, there is a day or two that Izunia wakes up, forty-five years old, and then again, still forty-five years old. Maybe he changes his name a few times, or a dozen, or so many times that he’s long since lost track.

But then the starscourge doesn’t disappear. It spreads. Out of the ashes, a new empire emerges. Niflheim, with its advanced machinery and prototype magitek that has _him_ written all over it.

It’s not over. It’s never over.

So Izunia fights. He fights for his children, fights with his children’s children, then under children’s children’s children, until his face is forgotten. But still, he fights.

(But he never fights Ardyn, oh no.)

And when Izunia is forty-five years old, having watched 113 of his descendants rise and fall to the Accursed, he wakes from his ramshackle apartment in Lestallum. He doesn’t know this yet, but it’s the night the new Chosen King of Lucis returns. He wonders if something will change today.

He wonders if today is the day it will be over.

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

When Noct is thirty years old, he opens his eyes to a world of darkness. Umbra is there, waiting for him. He makes it across the stormy sea to Galdin Quay, meets Talcott (he doesn’t recognize him until after reintroductions), who drives him to Hammerhead.

“They all split up, after you left,” Talcott says, his voice subdued. “Prompto mainly hangs around Hammerhead while the other two are usually off hunting daemons, alone.”

“... Any wives? Husbands? Children?” Noct asks.

“None,” Talcott replies, and with a flicker of humor, he adds, “Although Prompto stills spends time mooning over Cindy.”

When they finally arrive at Hammerhead, the others are waiting for him.

They’re different. Prompto looks excited to see him, but his eyes are a little sadder and his face older. Ignis faces his direction, his eyes closed and his face sad, but he greets Noct warmly enough. And —

“Gladio,” Noct whispers, who’s standing there with a gobsmacked look on his rugged face, he and lunges in for a kiss.

Prompto whoops, and Ignis comments in a brief moment of dry wit, “I suppose it’s safe to say I wouldn’t want to see this.”

“What took you so long?” Gladio asks him breathlessly, once they’ve somewhat broken apart. “And you need to shave.”

“Tell that to Prompto,” Noct responds without looking away, and Prompto gives a little yelp, covering his chin protectively.

“I like my beard! My beard is fine! Iggy, you like my beard, right?”

“It’s not a beard, Prompto.”

But Noct can’t stop laughing, giggling in relief because it may have been a decade, passed in a quick slumber, but they’re still the same as they were before. “Are you guys still wearing the same clothes?” He asks, taking a quick look at their attire. “You didn’t think to change it up, even after ten years?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“ _I_ have an excuse. You all weren’t stuck in a hunk of rock for a decade.”

It’s easy, natural, to squabble as if nothing’s changed, but Noct needs only to look down at himself to know that everything is different now.

He will never forget them, and he will never forget what follows.

“So you’ve returned, Your Majesty,” Cor Leonis says, standing at the entrance to Hammerhead, and isn’t that a face Noct hasn’t seen in a long, long time. His clothes are dusty, practically threadbare. He’s discarded his Crownsguard uniform.

“Cor!” Ignis exclaims in surprise. “What brings you here?”

“I received a call from Talcott here that our king had returned,” Cor says, nodding at the boy standing at the side, and as always, he seems strangely sober. “It seemed only fitting that I meet with him one last time.”

“‘One last time?’” Prompto asks, confusion clear in his expression. Noct’s friends exchange looks of alarm, because they don’t know yet, they don’t know about Providence. Noct’s insides turn to ice.

“How do you know about that?” He asks Cor. There is absolutely no way Cor could have known.

He only smiles bitterly, and draws his katana.

But then, the sword glows a familiar blue, and its spectral illusion rises and pierces through Noct. The Armiger, now with 14 glaives, swirls around him.

“I led you to the first,” Cor says quietly. “And now, I gift you the last.”

“Your sword was a Royal Arm?” Gladio asks in surprise. “How did you get your hands on that, Cor?”

“That could certainly explain why you still retained your weapons after the death of the king.” Ignis says thoughtfully.

And when his Armiger disappears, Noct is left frozen. Cor watches him patiently.

There is no reason why he should have been able to hold onto his weapons after his father died. Noct knows this, everyone knows this, Cor knows this. Royal Arm or not, Cor should not have Kotetsu.

There’s only one way he could’ve done it— if he wasn’t linked to the Crystal’s magic through the king. But everyone’s seen Cor fight, they’ve seen him materialize his katana in and out of existence. Noct had thought for a while that Cor might have been a traitor, working for Niflheim and trying to figure out how to manipulate the Crystal himself.

But it’s much more complicated than that, isn’t it, yet at the same time, it’s so much more simple than he could have expected. The real reason, the truth, and it’s why he has a Royal Arm to begin with, is something else entirely.

“You…” He croaks, his throat dry. He swallows, and the others give him confused glances, because they don’t get it, they don’t see who’s standing in front of them now. “You’re _the Immortal._ ”

“Umm, Noct?” Prompto asks. “It’s the Marshal, so… yeah.”

“No, you’re _Immortal_ ,” Noct says, stressing the word again and looking straight at Cor. “Aren’t you?”

Cor looks at him sadly, and his ageless face is older than Noct’s ever seen it. With a wave of his arm, his Armiger swirls into existence, blue and shimmering, just like Noct’s. All of them flinch. “You catch on quick,” He says, and then, “Help Ardyn. Please.”

“He… he said that you were jealous,” Noct tells him, still in shock. “Of what he had, what the gods gave him.”

“Did he?” Cor laughs bitterly. “That’s ridiculous. How could I have been jealous of myself?” He adjusts his stance, and glances at the ground. “It’s part of the curse. I can’t kill him and he can’t kill me. But I can’t allow myself to die before him in good conscience, knowing that I was the one who destroyed the world.”

He looks at Noct square in the eye, and says in utter misery, “So kill him, please. So I can rest.”

So I can rest, Ardyn tells Luna, all those years ago, his voice dangerously quiet.

And Noct looks at him, and out a distant part of his mind wonders what it’s like to be Cor, to be cut off, knowing that half of you is out there but they’re not you anymore, they aren’t even a _someone_ , just something filled to the brim with darkness and hate, and forced to live on and watch your descendants die to that something over the centuries, helpless and powerless.

It must feel a bit like dying.

So Noct looks at the haunted eyes of Izunia Lucis Caelum I, and he tells him in absolute honesty, “Of course.”

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this:

As the years pass, Ardyn bides his time. He waits for his chance at revenge, against the ones who took it all from him. He nurtures his new empire, Niflheim, in the shadows, nudging at its military and technological advancements. He waits for the Crystal to choose another.

But despite all his patience, Ardyn does not wait needlessly. And he is clever, oh so clever, and he devises his own way of finding the second bodies of Lucian kings. And then he kills them, setting each murder up as if it were a mere accident. The shorter the rule of the kings, the better, and the sooner the Chosen shall be born.

(If he pretends that each king he kills is Izunia, drowned and beaten and crushed and mangled, no one needs to know. Izunia. Izunia. Izunia.

The very last one he kills, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, looks at him with piercing eyes, and asks _why._

Because of Izunia, Ardyn could have sneered. He stole what all I could have been. He is still there, is he not? He is still alive, and I will destroy him. This world he holds so dearly, his lineage and his oh so precious gods, I shall destroy them all. I will _destroy him_.

And then I can rest.)

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

When Noct comes home, he meets six people; no more, no less. First is Talcott. Next are those he holds the closest. Next is Cor. Last is Ardyn. He doesn’t see Iris, or Cindy, or Aranea, or Cid, or anyone really. There’s just no time.

Just one more day, he begs no one, but that is the root of the problem.

There is no day.

At the last campfire, he tells them about his fate. About their fates, and then Gladio cries with all of them.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” He says. “We waited ten years for you to stop sleeping like a narcoleptic, and now you’re going to go murder yourself.”

Somehow, it’s the funniest thing Noct’s heard in a long time, and he laughs himself to tears. “Well, at least I won’t die a virgin.” He chokes out, and starts to cry as well.

(The past decade has been strange for Gladio. He waits, not sure what he’s waiting for, not sure what he’s been trying to protect, and he fights, not sure what he’s fighting.

Partly out of guilt, partly out an aspiration to better himself, he hunts alone. And sometimes, late in the night, he sees someone. She wears a white dress and always looks out place, standing in the woods and the plains and the wastelands. Her blonde hair is loose, untied. He wears a royal black ensemble, and always looks comfortable, standing in the woods and the plains and the wastelands. His black hair is wild, casually mussed.

He knows neither of them are there, and wonders halfheartedly if he’s lost his mind. But this is how he lives through the world of darkness, lost without his king and love and haunted only by his imagination.)

Gladio holds Noct close his heart, and everything is still.

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this:

It was never a coincidence, that of all people, Noct and Luna shared a soul.

Noct is Chosen. So was Ardyn.

O Chosen, healer of worlds, savior of the people. The ability to heal the sick, to use the Crystal’s power, to fight back against the darkness— to what extent does the power belong to the King of Lucis, and to what extent does it belong to the Oracle?

Ardyn had it all. He had so much power housed in one vessel it physically corrupted him, and the gods learned from their mistakes, and chose to split the powers between the Oracle and the King.

But the Chosen— the Chosen will always have it all. It’s fate that keeps Luna and Noct bonded to each other, and it’s fate that keeps them apart.

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

At the last campfire, Ignis cries with all of them. He does so silently, with a certain grace that is to be expected when speaking of him, but he cries nonetheless.

He cries because he has spent his whole life caring for Noct. He has spent his entire life by his side, supporting him, encouraging him. Noct knows this. He’s always known this.

And now that it is the end, now that Ignis can almost _see_ the end, a decade later than they had all expected it, yet at the same time far, far too early, it is too much. It is the end, and all he’s ever wanted was for Noct to be happy.

“Are you satisfied, Noct?” He asks, and his voice shakes and shakes. “Are you satisfied with what you have earned in your life, and what you have gained?” He asks Noct this, Noct who has waited ten years to reclaim his throne and now he never will, has wanted so much and has received so little, who simply wished for a chance to live with them all in peace.

He asks Luna this, Luna who has waited her whole life to reclaim her home from the empire and she never will, has wanted so much and has received so little, who simply wishes for a chance to meet them all before it was all over.

And then he knows the answer.

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this:

It’s decades ago when the Crystal whispers to King Regis in its ancient voice, _He is the Chosen._

King Regis’ son, Noctis, is the Chosen King.

 _The Accursed must be destroyed_ , the Crystal urges him, its voice foreign, inhuman, dispassionate. _It is his duty_.

“And if… he refuses?” King Regis asks it, his voice wavering ever so slightly. He is young, almost thirty. Age has not harmed him yet, the way it will in the following years. His hair, barely a single gray strand, is short and slicked back.

_He cannot. He must not._

King Regis loves his son, but he cannot protect him his fate. No one can.

So he accepts it, resigned, but there’s faith in there, because maybe Noctis must die, as his vessel is filled with the Lucian kings of old and destroyed, but _Noctis_ won’t. Noctis, with two bodies. While one must carry the weight of the world, King Regis hopes that his other son, whoever they may be, will be able to live the way they wish to.

But he protects him as best as can— ignorance is bliss, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell Noctis anything. He pleads to the Crystal, to the Astrals, that they do not tell his son what his fate means. What kind of father would he be, to burden a child with knowledge of his own death?

As a consequence, where she should have known everything, she knows nothing, nothing at all. Ardyn asks her, the gods really did tell you nothing, did they, and he was right.

King Regis wants his son to live. Maybe he will die, but his other body won’t. Noctis will live. Noctis will live, and all will be well.

Two decades later, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, with her shining blue eyes and strangely familiar demeanor, says, “I love you,” and that hope shatters right before he breathes his last breath.

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

Ifrit sits on his throne, regarding them in the flames with almost bored aggression, while Noct sweats, wipes his forehead quickly, and sweats some more.

“So you have met _him_ ,” Ardyn says to him before that, looking at Noct with a critical eye. “It’s been quite some while, Your Majesty. I shall await you in the throne room.”

So he battles the last of the Six, the Infernian, the fallen. Bahamut trumpets his call from the air, and Shiva turns the flames to deadly ice.

“Ardyn,” Noct says to him before that, looking at the man with a critical eye. “All he’s wanted is to save you.”

Ardyn’s face twists in an ugly sneer, and he seems to look at Noct with an expression of _what do you know, what could you possibly know_ , and surprisingly, he says nothing in return.

But Ifrit falls at last to Shiva’s cold embrace, and in one last glance, she speaks again to Noct.

(The words aren’t important. Die, she tells him, and that is not what she says but it is what she means.)

Walking up to the Citadel, Noct’s heart thrums in anticipation. Their footsteps echo, clacking on the marble floor, dusty but still mostly untouched, worlds apart from the wreckage outside.

He acquires a pair of daggers before that, glinting in one of the alleyways near the Citadel. When he bends over to pick them up, Prompto whistles. “That’s a nice find, Noct. Ignis could probably use those.”

When they arrive at their destination, Ardyn is seated on his father’s— his— the king’s throne. The Crystal has been placed directly above him.

Before that, Noct picks up the daggers with shaking hands, because it may have been years ago, but he still remembers.

“Nyx Ulric,” He whispers aloud, and the kukris say nothing in response.

“Ulric? Who’s that?” And Noct shakes his head, because how strange it is, to know that someone had saved your life, and thousands of others, yet no one knows his name. Forgotten, just like that.

“It’s nothing.”

Ardyn laughs, stands up. With a wave of his hand, his friends are knocked out in some inexplicable use of magic and horrifyingly familiar bodies hang from the ceiling, chained and limp.

The— emperor? It must be. And speak of the devil, the Glaive himself. In the center, his father, and—

They never found the body, his mind reminds him.

Luna.

But he doesn’t want to think about this right now, not _right now_ , not in front of Ardyn, but he forces himself to look past them with a burning question written on his face.

“Bodies will rot,” Ardyn tells him, almost gently. “So I hope you enjoy my imitations.”

Noct follows him outside, warping back down to the ground.

“And so, let us end this, just the two of us.” Ardyn says, and his own Armiger appears, a strange violet-red.

Noct’s fists clench, and he thinks of the others, fallen to the ground. He thinks of everything he’s lost, and everything he’s gained.

“Let’s,” He agrees, and steps forward.

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this:

Cor was someone, once. Ardyn was once the same. They’ve both changed. They’re not the same as they used to be.

Cor Leonis is a hero. Ardyn Izunia is a monster.

Ardyn Izunia is a monster, but he is a human monster. Cor Leonis is a hero, but he stopped feeling like a human a long time ago. Ardyn doesn’t want to destroy the world. Cor doesn’t want to save it.

They both want to die.

That’s all they want, isn’t it? They’re two different people now, no longer able to understand each other’s motivations. Ardyn does not know that Cor Leonis cannot let himself die until he can lay his guilt to rest. Ardyn Izunia was created through a mistake, and he’s a mistake Cor will never be able to make up for. So he tries, by fighting and fighting, gaining praise and glory, and it only leaves him more empty as the centuries pass and the darkness spreads.

Ardyn Izunia wants revenge, he wants to destroy the gods and the accursed ring and the Crystal. But Cor does not know that he will never achieve that until Providence is complete, for it wipes the Chosen, the ring, the crystal, and all Astral that have formed a pact with him for existence. And Providence means he will die. He wants to die. To him, it is not a necessary sacrifice to achieve his goal. He welcomes it. He is human, achingly so. He simply wants all of it— including himself— to end.

Yet they’ve been circling around each other for eons, millenia, neither able to confront the other. Cor Leonis fights against the magitek and the daemons, but not once does he look for Ardyn. Ardyn creates his empire and kills one king after the other, son after son, but not once does he look for Cor.

(A long time ago, at the beginning of all beginnings, Izunia raises his sword to strike Ardyn down, and Ardyn raises his. And neither can bring themselves to do it, and eons pass and yet, they still cannot bring themselves to do it.)

They’ve been circling around each other for eons, millenia, neither of them able to give what the other wants, because Cor Leonis does not understand Ardyn Izunia, and Ardyn Izunia does not understand Cor Leonis.

They stalk each other in the shadows, never quite catching a glimpse of the other, and Noct and Luna are stuck in between.

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

After Ardyn finally falls to the ground, there is an odd sort of silence.

“So,” He says to Noct. “What shall you do now? Kill me?” Do it, he seems to say. Destroy me. Fulfill your destiny. Die.

Looking at the wretched man in front of him, Noct closes his eyes and lets his shoulders droop. He’s tired, and it’s almost over.

“I’m going to let you rest, Ardyn,” He says, just as Luna had said at the trial of Leviathan. “Know peace.”

I will hold you to that, Ardyn seems to say, and he holds the promise close to his unbeating heart, until there is nothing where he once was. But he is not quite dead. Not yet; there is one last thing Noct must do.

He finds the others, meets them at the steps of the Citadel, and tells them this. One more thing. Just one more.

“We shall hold down the fort, so to speak, while you do so then,” Ignis says, and he turns his sightless eyes, once again, on Noct.

“It’s almost over,” Prompto breathes out, and there’s a guilty sort of relief behind it all, yet the more Noct listens, the less relieved he sounds, and the more shameful he looks.

Gladio is the first to bow, then the first to rise. There’s an intent look behind his gaze, and a warstorm of emotions that flicker in and out from his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything. But to Noct, words have stopped being important long ago.

He bids them farewell in his own way, and he’s pretty sure they’re all holding something back from each other, because there’s no point in saying it if they all already know.

Unspoken sentiment, unsaid regrets, unstated knowledge that everyone understands far too well.

There is no fanfare when he walks back up to the throne, up the stairs, his shoes making sharp sound each time he reaches a new step.

What an odd ascension, Noct thinks to himself. In a way, it’s almost amusing.

(Everyone knows what happens next.)

But here is what Noct knows, what everyone knows but does not say, burned deep into his mind, and he will never, ever forget it:

The Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive are linked to the Crystal’s magic by the King. When the King dies, their magic is gone. Their weapons are gone. Even their potions and elixirs are gone, the magic glimmering away from the infusion.

Noct dies.

He doesn’t really, not at this moment, but the fake-imposter-apparition of his father stabs him in the chest, and Noct stops breathing. He is dead.

And because he is dead, they are dead too.

Noct can’t venture through Insomnia by himself, he’s not strong enough. His friends needed to come with him. But there’s that moment between the void and true death, before dawn can break, where he will face off Ardyn in the dreamscape of the Crystal, where his body stops breathing and— and he’s dead, but not yet.

But _they_ are, because they can’t fight all those daemons unarmed and without healing items, and they don’t have any of that.

* * *

And Noct will never forget this:

At the last campfire, Prompto cries with all of them.

Noct has never seen Prompto cry. Ever. No matter what it is, even when he’s scared out of his wits, even in the dark halls of Zegnautus Keep, Noct has never seen Prompto cry.

“I just wish,” Prompto sniffles, and he looks more scared than Noct’s ever seen him. “That all those times I— all those times I said I felt like I was in an RPG— I wish it were true.”

“That’s what you’re crying about?” Noct gasps out. “I can’t believe it. Prompto Argentum, crying because he’s not in a video game.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Gladio grumbles, and he surreptitiously wipes his eyes. “You’ve reached a new low.”

“I mean it,” Prompto sobs, and now he’s just straight up bawling. Noct doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry harder. “I really, really mean it. Maybe— maybe video games aren’t the right way to say it. I just— I just don’t want to be real. Maybe in books and movies, things don’t end that well. Maybe the main character dies, and maybe things are sad and it’s painful. But there’s an ideal behind them; there’s always a message. You die, and maybe someone else gets the chance to live on, and the characters always accept it because they know it’s for the best.”

Noct doesn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“This isn’t it. I really don’t think this is it. This isn’t the ending I was looking for. You guys are my only friends,” Prompto says. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want to die either.”

Yet, Noct will never know this, for it is something no one knows:

I don’t want to die, Prompto tells them sadly. It’s the only time Noct sees him cry. He wants to be in video game. He doesn’t want to exist. He wants to be fake, so he can keep holding on to something, that message at the end of the story— everything’s going to be ok.

All of it nonsequential, its ambiguity clear out of context, but isn’t that what they’ve been saying this whole time? It’s going to be ok. Everything will surely be alright, in the end. The sacrifices must be made, but despite all the sorrow, the pain, they always move forward because it’s going to be alright, things will get better. They have to get better, otherwise what was the meaning of it all?

I don’t want to die, Prompto tells them sadly.

Don’t we all, Prompto? Don’t we all.

* * *

Yet, Noct will never know this, for it is something that no one knows:

This is insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

The fact of the matter is, Noct is not the one most know. He is a bit softer at the edges, he holds himself with less of a slouch. He is more confident, he falls in love with someone else.

The fact of the matter is, Luna was not the one most knew. She was more quick to argue, more easily shaken and more uncertain. She was scared, and she fell in love someone else.

But they’re still the same person, aren’t they? Noct and Luna are still the same person, yes, but the crucial point is Noct is still Noct from before, and Luna was still Luna from before. Noct is still quick to fight, still quiet and not liking vegetables, still being the King he is born to be. Luna was still strong, still doing what was right no matter what, still being the Oracle she was born to be.

A long time ago, Luna is four years old and Noct is only a newborn.

You are the Oracle, her mother says and gently strokes her hair. You are the Chosen, his father says and sets him on lap.

And already, it is the end of ends. Luna _must_ die. Noct _must_ die. Luna must die because Ardyn will always kill her, knowing the threat she represents. Noct must die because he is the only one that can stop Ardyn, and in doing so he must always sacrifice himself.

Luna is four years old and Noct is only a newborn, and they are already dead. They’ve been standing at the end of the road all their life, and their tale was over before it began.

All these words have been written, have been read. Have been changed, have been added and removed. Noct and Luna. Gladio and Prompto and Ignis. Ravus and Sylva. Regis and Clarus. Cor and Ardyn.

The world is the same. The people, although different, are the same. The magic is the same. It’s different, yes, but everything is still the same. The same rules apply, the same consequences will take hold.

It’s madness, it’s insanity.

* * *

And then it is the last; the end of everything.

And Noct will never forget this:

By the time he opens his eyes, he’s back in a dreamscape of colors and nothing.

Well, perhaps not quite nothing yet. Ardyn is there, waiting for him.

What are you waiting for? Ardyn seems to ask him, yet all he does is smile. Kill me. Die.

So Noct holds out his arm, and he reaches. Reaches and reaches and reaches, until his back arches and he gasps in pain, and fourteen swords split through him, shining and flaring white-blue.

All around him are people, people he knows—people that are dead, his father, Ignis, Prompto, Gladio, and— and he breathes in, and _she_ breathes out.

Luna and Noct hold out their hand, and they scream, indecipherable, incoherent, and all around them, the Kings of Lucis take their arms to battle one last time.

And they will never forget this:

There’s a sort of permanence in death that no one likes to think about, where all the sacrifices and struggles and the loves and cares of life are forgotten, and everything becomes obsolete because you’re dead, so what does it matter?

Because you’re dead, and what does it matter that you went blind and learned through sheer will to survive in darkness?

Because you’re dead, so what does it matter if you spent your whole life feeling that you were never good enough and then learning to overcome that, to become confident and proud of who you are?

Because you’re dead, and why does it matter that you were proud of what you did your life, protecting people, and you fell in love and you _cared—_

Oh, but others will remember you, and you will live on through them, through memory. Your loved ones, your friends.

Like Nyx Ulric, a snide voice whispers. Yes, who remembered him?

Your brother’s dead. Your father’s dead. Your mother’s dead. You’ve never known your other parents, the mother that died from childbirth, or the father dead from war, the ones that have long turned to ash.

Gladio is dead. Ignis is dead. Prompto is dead.

They all died for you, and now you are going to die.

But some of them still aren’t; vague recollections through a blurry haze of people you can’t quite remember in the midst of fading, but voices of a young girl calling for her brother, a precocious young boy, a warrior with a fierce look on her face, a girl working at the garage… who else? They’ll see it, though, they’ll see the sun.

But you’re still dead, so why does it matter that you saved the world if you aren’t there to see it?

When Noct is thirty years old, Ardyn dies and he slips. He doesn’t trip on anything, he wasn’t standing on anything before, and he won’t land on anything in the end.

It’s finally over, a part of his mind cries in relief. Everything is done. He’s succeeded.

But there’s a smaller voice too, and it speaks, confused. But I did everything right, it says, oddly quizzical. I did everything right.

I succeeded, the louder one says insistently.

But I did everything right, the smaller one responds, louder this time, less confused and more hurt.

It’s finally over, the louder one repeats.

But I did everything right, the smaller one repeats, only dozens of others clamor in, speaking as one, until they are an overpowering feeling. But I did everything _right._

I succeeded, the one alone says weakly.

But I did everything right, the crowd cries. _But I did everything right._

When Noct is thirty years old, he only falls for a split instant. While his vision and his mind are clouding, he thinks with wild clarity, _I don’t want to die,_

because he did everything right, he did the right thing, always, so why is this the end — because there is so much that he hasn’t done, that his friends haven’t done, that he never got the chance to do as luna. there is _so much_ , and he’ll never see lucis or tenebrae rebuilt — because the people will remember lunafreyanoxfleuret the oracle of tenebrae and noctisluciscaelum the chosen king of lucis as the ones who saved the world, but who will remember noctandluna, the one and the same, who simply wanted to live and _thrive_ with the ones they loved — and they’re all dead too, aren’t they, promptoargentum and ignisscientia and regisluciscaelum and sylvanoxfleuret and ravusnoxfleuret and _gladiolusamicitia_ everyone they ever loved, they died for noctandluna and now they are going to die too so was it all for naught? noctandluna fought to save them, but now they are all dead and _what did i do all of this for—_

and that is the last thing he ever thinks, as his body shatters into a shower of sparks, and he and everyone he holds dear to his heart disappear from the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(end.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #### This is an exercise in futility.
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> Yet, they will never know this, because it is something no one knows:
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> I hope all of you are **bitter and upset** because this ending was **terrible** and i **hate** it so fucking much. I hope you **throw fucking flames at me** and **send me hate mail** because fuck this, fuck you ending, _**ffucc you square enix, you can suck my ass**_
> 
> Also fuck that post-credits scene. I don't believe in the goddamn afterlife, and it was a cheap way to try and make things better. They're dead. They're not coming back. There was no point to this game because they're all dead, ok what the fuck were you thinking devs. **I hate the chosen one trope** and it should be **abolished.**
> 
> Literally the only reason I wrote this 70k piece of **fucking trash** was to tell everyone that. Like y'all thought it was some cool ass AU, but **no,** it was just me being **salty.** Am I the only person in this fandom that actively **hates** the ending of the game??? Because I see way too many people being sad about it and I'm like **no, do not be sad friends hate them hate the game developers because that was crappy.**
> 
> Fight me, hoes. Me and my trash fanfiction will beat everything up and I **hate this shitty game,** it literally forced me to find my inactive AO3 account so I could write this. **DO ALL OF YOU SEE HOW UPSET I AM.**
> 
> (And now that this is done, I'm hopefully gonna write an AU of this AU and then I'm going to make it chapter 16 of ffucc because people actually need to read it, it's somewhat important to me unlike 'writers block af' and also _I'm a greedy hoe that loves traffic._
> 
> also thank you everyone for reading this far and being nice to me, y'all are very kind but that doesn't change the fact that **this fucking game sucks** )

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ffucc the wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143533) by [Givethemtriumphnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Givethemtriumphnow/pseuds/Givethemtriumphnow)




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